


Cherished

by Kalla_Moonshado



Series: Conspiracy of Ravens [2]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, But I think "of age" is a completely different thing for each race, Feels, Finger Sucking, First Time, Fluff, Frottage, Khadgar is in fact over age of consent, M/M, Magic, Magic Lessons, Possessive!Medivh, Sex, Slight vocal kink, Underage tag because technically Khadgar is underage, slight injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-10-31 05:28:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10892655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalla_Moonshado/pseuds/Kalla_Moonshado
Summary: “Diligence,” Khadgar finally said softly. “You respect competence and diligence and perfection.”“I also cherish your curiosity, quick mind and wit, and the way you are usually – usually so honest with me,” Medivh countered softly.  At the word “cherish”, Khadgar’s breath hitched slightly, but he kept his eyes down.  “Are you saying that you would prefer me to cherish more than that?”





	1. Curious

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sigurdjarlson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigurdjarlson/gifts).



> For Sigurdjarlson, who encouraged me in my depravity, and for being so patient as I argued with the muses. <3  
> More tags will be added later for later chapters.  
> Same timeline/universe as Misplaced and Replaced.

I. Curious

The boy’s flame magic was indeed stronger than the other elementals.  Each spell attempt was satisfactory – and beyond, and Medivh nodded, slowly as he saw minor spells have major effect, and major spells… Well.  He wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of this young man in a heated argument.

It was time to add to the repertoire.

“I think, Young Trust, that we’re going to expand on this, and then use it as a basis for your control and affinity with the others,” Medivh said calmly, beckoning his apprentice from the shielded workroom.  “I’m afraid it’s going to put you in the library for a time, but somehow, I’m not sure that’s going to upset you.”

Khadgar chuckled, softly, shaking his head. “No, it would not upset me.  Though – expand? I’m not sure I understand.”

“Fireballs and burning ground is all fine and flashy, lighting fires and candles is practical, but if you need something more subtle?  Or something more… powerful?”

“I’m not sure I can handle anything more powerful than what I know… I—“

“One day, Young Trust, you will be able to call the power to your fingertips as easy as breathing, and the things you will face will laugh at what you can do now.  Time, practice and my guidance will see to that. For now, we set you up with the proper reading material to learn the theories, and then I think dinner – and then some rest.  You were up late again last night.”  Medivh turned his head just enough to smile at his apprentice, a sly look in his eyes.

Khadgar had the grace to blush.

 

Predictably, after dinner, Khadgar headed for the library.  Medivh could not blame him when presented with seven books, four scrolls and an ancient tapestry to study.  He wondered if perhaps he should have waited until tomorrow to assign the materials as he made a minute adjustment to his astrolabe and took note of something in his notes.

The sound of shattering glass, splintering wood and the unmistakable sound of something exploding shook the tower not long after Medivh’s eyes were starting to tire, his notes beginning to blur as he took note of the positions of the stars.

Where normally he would sigh, set down his work, and calmly descend the stairs if noise reached him from the library below, the sound and more importantly the rattling saw him drop the astrolabe and turn to run down the stairs.  He stopped at the library entrance, where Moroes stood shaking his head and muttering.

There was a half-globe of crystal on what was left of a scorched table.  As Medivh skidded into the room, it slid down the slope and shattered on the scorched floor.  A bookcase leaned precariously forward, looming over the prone form of his apprentice, who appeared to be whole, if not unhurt.  At least all of his limbs and extremities were attached and he was not covered in blood, and there was no pool beneath him.  It appeared that he had simply been thrown backwards by whatever had happened.

The pitiful cry as Khadgar tried to move sent chills of terror down Medivh’s spine, and he checked the impulse to run to the youth, instead moving quickly, but calmly to his side.  He raised one hand and the bookshelf righted itself; no use having it fall on the boy.

He lifted Khadgar’s shoulders and head with extreme care, to find the blue eyes half-open and dazed.  He gently tapped the young man’s cheek, speaking carefully and slowly.  “Are you all right?  Young Trust, speak to me – what happened here?”  He vaguely heard Moroes shuffle out of the room, presumably to find a broom.

Khadgar moaned again as his eyes opened to see Medivh looming over him.  He gasped and sat upright, one hand lifting quickly to his head.  “’m sorry, Magus.” His eyes widened slightly in fear. “I fell asleep… didn’t realize what I was doing. Muttering in my sleep I guess.”

Medivh said nothing, but looked from his apprentice to the table and crystal and back again. “In your sleep,” he repeated. Khadgar nodded.  “Why were you sleeping here?” Khadgar blushed. “I see. Well, come on. We’ll see about whether you need a healer or not, and see if we can’t find a remedy for the headache you surely have.”  Without waiting for a response, he carefully slid his arms under Khadgar’s knees and shoulders and lifted him.  He started to wonder if it was that the young man had cast something to make him lighter, or if he really was just naturally almost “too” light.

Instead of carrying the younger man to his room, he carried him up the stairs and into a small, cozy study.  It was furnished simply with a chaise, a couple of overstuffed and comfortable chairs, low tables and a single bookcase, which was currently empty other than two books, both of which were clearly not spell books or histories or anything scholarly.  After all, not all research needed to be of the Arcane, world history or languages or… well.

Gingerly, Medivh set his charge down on the chaise, then ran his fingers over the back of his head, gently.  Khadgar sucked in a breath, hissing a little, but nothing more.  Medivh nodded.  “Well, you’re going to be sore for a day or two, but there seems to be no permanent damage.  Can you move for me?”

The next few moments had Khadgar moving fingers, toes, knees, elbows, neck, eyes and tongue according to instructions.  Satisfied that his apprentice was not too badly damaged, Medivh chuckled.  “This room has been used to sleep in before – had I known you were sleeping in the library… well.  I cannot claim to have not done so myself.  Weary feet and long staircases do not mix well.  You just stay here, and get some real sleep; I’m going to see if Moroes can find you something for the pain.”

As he turned to go, he heard a sniffle, then a ruthlessly suppressed sob.  That didn’t sound like the confident, but inexperienced youth he had taken as his apprentice at all.  He turned back, frowning, to see Khadgar rubbing one eye with his hand, biting his lip hard enough to turn it white.  Melancholy in the face of an injury perhaps? Stress reaction?  He hesitated.  The young man had managed to worm his way into the older mage’s heart over time, but now was no time to think of such things. An offer of comfort could too quickly turn into something the young man didn’t want, and his own mercurial nature would all but ensure he couldn’t stop himself once he started.

Khadgar was trying to sit up, one lock of his white streak falling into his face as he struggled.  He seemed unaware that Medivh was still there.  He was muttering to himself in an angry, hurt tone, and Medivh moved silently to the back of the chaise so the younger mage could not see him, but so he could hear every word Khadgar said.

“Bloody brilliant, stupid. Perfect way to prove your capabilities. Perfect way to have his hands on you, and now you.. you..” He let out a short snarl and leaned forward, his head in his hands.  He barely felt the weight shift, and didn’t even realize it had as Medivh moved around the couch and sat next to him.

“Young Trust?”

Khadgar’s neck made a soft crunching noise as he jerked his head up.  Wide blue eyes stared into calm green ones, and then quickly dropped. His cheeks turned red.

“You … didn’t finish what you were saying.” Khadgar shook his head. “I would like you to,” Medivh tried, more quietly.

“Diligence,” Khadgar finally said softly. “You respect competence and diligence and perfection.”

“I also cherish your curiosity, quick mind and wit, and the way you are usually – _usually_ so honest with me,” Medivh countered softly.  At the word “cherish”, Khadgar’s breath hitched slightly, but he kept his eyes down.  “Are you saying that you would prefer me to cherish more than that?”

Khadgar’s eyes blurred slightly.  He thought it was from the lump on the back of his head that throbbed still.  He wasn’t hurting nearly as much as he had been, though it had been quite obvious at the time that the bookshelf had won the argument of which of them would occupy the space.  Perhaps it was that same lump on the back of his head that caused him to open his mouth and before he could stop himself, before he realized the words were pouring out him, speak his mind.

“I… came here with the expectation of a difficult taskmaster. I came here with a … somewhat mild expectation to have been reduced to arcane dust by now – and yet, you encourage me, even now, when I just caused an _explosion_ in the library. Because of my own incompetence and stubbornness and when you _do_ things like that, it … it makes me want more than what we have.  I mean, I… I dearly appreciate your tutelage and I’m just an expendable person and those books are priceless but you worried more about me than them, and it makes me want more. It makes me think that you actually care more for me than you do my abilities, which is the reason I’m here.” The younger mage snorted with derision. “It makes me wonder if it’s much of a secret that I push myself so hard so maybe, just maybe, you would come to actually care for _me_ more than… I don’t know. It can’t be a secret that somewhere along the way I’ve, stupidly, fallen in love with someone I can never hope to—“ He stopped short, his face heating as the blush crept into his ears. _What have I_ done _?! What have I just_ said _!?_

Horrified, he tried to stand up, tried to flee back to his own room.  He could be packed and gone before the Magus could get angry if he managed to do so now and… and…

“Stop.”

Khadgar froze, the command in the voice making him cringe.  The cushion he sat on shifted again, and there was a hand brushing his cheek, gently brushing the lock of hair from his face.  “You feel that strongly?”

Khadgar closed his eyes, and nodded miserably, expecting that he would be sent away. How could he learn whatever it was Medivh had to teach him if his feelings got in the way?  He expected the mercurial mage to pat his shoulder and leave.  He did not expect the hand against his cheek to turn his head.  “Look at me, Khadgar.”

He almost winced at being called by his actual name – until overbright blue eyes met green and gold, the older mage searching the younger’s face. Heartbeats passed, and Medivh leaned forward to touch his lips to Khadgar’s.  “I thought I was inappropriate to care so deeply for my apprentice.  Little did I know my apprentice cared so deeply for me in return.”  He kissed him again, and Khadgar returned it this time, hesitantly, clumsily, still half afraid this was a dream, and he would wake with his head pillowed on a book and his back aching.  “No more secrets then, Young Trust.  It’s in the open.  Tell me this is not what you want – and I will stop. Be silent, and I will be unable to stop myself from…”

Heartbeats passed. Khadgar’s eyes widened.  Medivh’s expression faltered and he started to pull his hand away, only for Khadgar’s to reach up and capture it.  The younger mage leaned forward, free arm moving around Medivh’s shoulders, boldly as he feather-touched his lips to the knuckles of the hand in his. “It is what I want. Please. _Please_ Master—“

“Medivh.”

“Please Medivh. I do want this. It is what I want, and I’ve wanted it so much for so long and I was afraid to say anything because I thought you would send me away and I would not only have been a disgrace to the Kirin Tor but to you – I’m your first apprentice in—“

“Only apprentice. In ever.”

The words shot through Khadgar’s aching skull and into his heart.  He leaned forward, only half-realizing he was doing so, and his lips were on Medivh’s, young bold overconfidence and hormones warring with the swelling in his chest, and it was all he could do to keep himself from exploding from it all.

Khadgar didn’t remember laying back, or Medivh putting him there.  Before he could blink twice, there was a weight against him that he’d longed for and couldn’t have remembered if he tried when that longing had begun.  His body shifted as stress-reaction kicked in, and he arched upwards against that weight.  He could hear the murmur of “Stop me now, or I won’t be able to stop,” in Medivh’s voice against his ear, and felt a hand sliding between them.  His reply was to slide his legs around the older mage, pulling him closer.

The hand slid under layers of clothing and brushed bare skin. “Oh _Light_ …”

Medivh faltered, and nearly pulled his hand back, thinking this was a mistake – this was his _apprentice_ he was fondling; a young apprentice barely of age who was probably more hormone than thought, especially after the injury.  He was taking advantage of a moment of disorientation that would see them hating one another come morning and—

“No! Please... don’t stop. _Please_ , Medivh…”

The voice was so broken, so desperate, and it tore at him. His fingers curled around turgid flesh gently, still giving his apprentice the option to pull away – or flee.  Perhaps once he came down from release, the stress-lust abated, he would realize he hadn’t meant what he’d said at all.  His reward was a mewling cry and another arch.

He would hate himself for it later, but right now… right now…

Perhaps it was a distraction from the pain – though arching wasn’t a good thing, and he was well aware that his apprentice may just damage himself further.  His other hand gently pressed down on Khadgar’s hip, keeping him from arching again, and his grip firmed, and slowly began to move.

He watched, wondering if the younger mage had ever been touched by another; judging by the way he moved, so fluidly, so openly, he guessed the answer was “no”.  As the mewling gave way to a keening, he began to wonder if he’d even touched himself before now.

It didn’t matter; the warning signs were there – voice breaking, body undulating in desperation, the throbbing under the skin of his palm. It would be cruelty to stop now, and so he watched, drinking in the reactions, and wondering if this would be the only time he would get the chance to see them – and he _wanted_ to see them, had wanted to see them for weeks now, but had kept himself at the proper distance.

Distance that was eroding at a faster pace than he could keep up with.  Broken words began to tumble unheeded from the young man’s lips; words that begged, but for what was clearly unknown.  He could feel muscles tensing under his hands and he had to control his own breathing as his apprentice begged him for something – something he could not even articulate. Perhaps he didn’t even know.

Medivh felt compelled to answer the pleading, and while his hand’s movement remained steady, he leaned to murmur against Khadgar’s ear, softly. “I’m here. I have you. Your body knows what it needs – let it take it.”  He shifted, uncomfortably aware of how the cries were affecting him.

He could, if he so chose, take the younger mage to alleviate his own discomfort – but that was not an option. He refused to take advantage of the desperate, mewling thing underneath him, though it was so, _so_ tempting…

His concentration was broken as Khadgar’s eyes suddenly flew open, tinged a brighter blue.  Medivh gasped, seeing the manifestation of power there – but more so at the words that spilled out, more broken than his last attempt at speech. “I-I… Oh _Light_ I… I feel like I… M-Medivh… _Medivh…_ ”

And then no words as the voice degenerated into a breathy cry as sudden heat spread over his hand.

His guess of never having been touched was answered.  The younger man was shaking, and tears sparkled at the corners of his eyes before spilling over.  Medivh slowed his hand, then very slowly drew away, working backwards through layers of cloth.  He stared at his hand for a moment, slight color flushing his cheeks.

His eyes turned back to Khadgar, who still trembled, and he curled his arms around his apprentice as said apprentice’s legs slid down to drop to the cushions, strength as spent as…

The soft moan startled him back to himself, and he watched Khadgar’s expression, as though waiting for realization to kick in, and once the lust-haze cleared, for the young man to attempt to flee again.  He did not expect the arms that wrapped around him, or the kiss to his forehead.

“Th-thank you,” Khadgar whispered, his voice wavering. He seemed unable to say anything more, though his throat worked, and his lips moved. His eyes lost their glow, and their icy depths were locked with Medivh’s desire-darkened jade.

Those icy depths held no fear, no rejection, no wish to move from where their host lay. The longer he watched, the more they changed, until the tension was broken by a hand at the back of his neck pulling him downward.

He had not expected the kiss, however inexpert, however clumsy.  He was returning it before he could think twice about it, and his body was becoming insistent that he _do something_. Now.

Medivh pulled back from the kiss after a moment, and it seemed as though Khadgar had returned to his senses.  He looked afraid, suddenly.  Had he overstepped?

“Khadgar,” Medivh murmured softly in response to that fear. “I _have_ to know…” He winced internally as he heard his voice break, just a touch.  “Was that a reaction… or do you _want_ this?  If you don’t tell me no, right now, I… I don’t know as I’ll be able to stop if—“  He stopped himself from saying more, instead taking the time to _search_ Khadgar’s expression, his eyes, his posture.

“It was a reaction,” Khadgar replied slowly, and Medivh started to pull away, but was stopped by Khadgar’s firm tug. “But I want this. I want _you_ , Medivh. I swear to you I’m thinking clearly, no matter how hard I hit that bookshelf. Please don’t pull away.” A pause, then he continued hesitantly. “I can feel that… that you…”

To his credit, Khadgar did not move, his eyes locked on Medivh’s, watching the struggle.  And there _was_ a struggle.  Khadgar was young. Medivh was … old.  Perhaps he had lost years to his coma, but that did not mean the physical age difference wouldn’t raise questions should this escape. The silence stretched, and finally, Medivh leaned down to brush his lips against his apprentice’s, telling his body to be _patient, dammit_ ; he was going to do this right, or it would not be done at all.

The kiss was returned with fervor, even as instinct guided the younger man to turn his head to deepen it.  Medivh had to lift his body slightly before he melted into it and let his own instinct take over.  One hand slid along Khadgar’s side, then to his chest, where he tugged gently at the laces of the shirt. He met no resistance, and pulled the lacings loose.  He drew back from the kiss to brush lips down Khadgar’s jaw, the sparse beginnings of a beard there tickling them as he moved to the younger man’s throat.

The pulse that beat there was rapid and fluttering; nerves, desire, something else. Khadgar was trembling again; he could feel it under his fingertips as he slid his hand upwards beneath the unlaced shirt, his lips trailing to press against the pulse and tentatively suckle at it. He could taste the salt of nerves, the sweet of soap, the hum of arcane energy that flowed along skin and through vein, and whatever it was that made the skin beneath his tongue uniquely Khadgar.

He felt, more than heard, the soft moan that fluttered in Khadgar’s throat as he moved to slide both of his hands under the shirt and slide it upwards.  His lips migrated to chest and collarbone as Medivh slid downward, even as his hands moved.  Understanding seemed to bloom in the younger mage as his arms shifted from around his mentor to slip the shirt off.

Medivh had to remind himself sharply to move slowly.  He shifted so he could press one leg between Khadgar’s for balance.  He had to pause as what he felt there tried his patience. How many times had he awakened from dreams like this? His dreams were much faster paced, and by now he would be pulling the younger mage against him, buried within him and listening to that voice… oh that _voice_ whispering his name.

His lips had wrapped around the tender flesh of a nipple and he was sucking on it absently, while that voice was indeed murmuring his name, one hand brushing against his dark hair, the other had curled into a fist at his side.  Medivh drew back from the nipple, blowing cool air against it and making Khadgar squirm.  He couldn’t help but admire the younger man’s restraint – whether conscious or from lack of experience on what to do.

Medivh drew back, running his hands gently down Khadgar’s torso, feeling the skin against his fingers. So soft, so… sheltered. He loathed that one day, that skin would be marred by scars as he lived out his destiny of Guardian – if he could not convince him that the position was … folly.  Even still, he would be involved in combat, and combat brought scars. It was inevitable.  For now, he reveled in the softness, and committed it to memory.

Khadgar was becoming restless.  His own hands had boldly lifted, tugging gently at the robe Medivh wore.  His eyes were open again, and bright with uncertainty, but filled with a determination that Medivh knew – and loved.  Gently, he pried the younger hands from him, but not in a way that told him that they were done.  He leaned back and pulled his robe up, shedding it with ease and letting it pool with Khadgar’s shirt.  His shirt joined the puddle a moment later without a further prompt.

The hands returned, Khadgar’s eyes drinking in the scars as his fingertips brushed them.  “Medivh… where… How…?” It was barely a whisper.

“Years of combat, Young Trust,” Medivh murmured in response.  “This is what your life will lead to, unless there is a miracle.”

Khadgar’s fingertips found a scoring of claw marks beside an older sword cut.  “We do tend to make targets of ourselves as mages…” was his only comment.  Medivh checked the impulse to kiss him. He was not afraid of what lay ahead of him, and oh it was more than he could handle.

He took the idle hand in his and kissed its knuckles; the only action he felt he could take that would not spur things in a direction that was too fast or too intense.  He pressed the hand to his own heart, unable to answer.  Their eyes met again, Medivh’s full of pride mingled with desire, Khadgar’s slightly surprised at the wordless praise, but no less filled with desire.  They dropped back to the exploration, the cheeks below them reddening slightly.

Khadgar seemed content, just brushing his fingers along the scars, mapping them, and Medivh realized he too was committing them to memory – and expected questions later, regarding which one was which.  For now, he let the soft questing fingertips do as they would, telling his impatient body to shut up.  He would not rush this. He would not take this further until Khadgar was ready, and not before.

Questing fingertips brushed a nipple, and the eyes lifted as Medivh gasped at the jolt of pleasure it brought.  He had been used to a little more rough handling in the past, but this… this questing touch was so innocent, and yet not.  Medivh knew the tilt of the head well as Khadgar tilted his finger and brushed a firmer touch over it.  The other hand gently shifted, and Medivh released it.  It moved to brush against his side and Medivh followed its progress.

The tentative scrape of a nail over his nipple was electrifying, and he arched, unable to stop it. Khadgar’s breath caught, and he repeated the action, watching for reaction.

Medivh couldn’t stop himself; he dropped his weight, pressing himself against Khadgar’s thigh and moaning softly.  Khadgar’s thigh lifted, just a little, to press against the hardness there, and Medivh made a soft strangled noise.

He _had_ to stay in control of himself. One wrong move… and he could drive his apprentice away, and after what he had said earlier… He couldn’t bear to think about it.

“Medivh,” Khadgar’s voice was breathy soft, laced with uncertainty, “what do you need? What can I do?” Those words had a heavy cost in admitting he didn’t know what to do, but it was painfully obvious that he _wanted_ to do _something_.

“You’re doing fine,” Medivh assured him, “just as you are.”  Khadgar looked skeptical, but his hand was brushing over the skin of his mentor’s stomach, feeling the muscles twitch beneath the skin as they strengthened to firmer touches.

The touches explored lower, brushing the closure of the loose pants that had lain beneath the robe.  The closure was barely restraining the hardness below the laces.  Medivh dropped his eyes and held absolutely still.  Khadgar’s other hand reached up and gently tugged at Medivh’s shoulder, wordlessly asking him to move closer. Medivh shifted, and before he realized what Khadgar was about, he found the laces loosening, and the cooler air on his cock pulled a moan out of him that he could not stop.

Any more than he could stop the questing fingertips that brushed against his shaft, then the head, across the slit, carrying dampness as they trailed down.  Medivh’s hands clenched.  If he didn’t, those hands would have pulled Khadgar against him, relived him of the loose pants he still wore and…

He had to stop thinking. _Now_.  He stayed still, letting Khadgar explore him.  His breath came quickly, and he couldn’t stop the little noises of longing that escaped.  Perhaps it was those noises that prompted the fingers to curl around the shaft, palm brushing the underside, tighten just a little so the grip was firm, and begin moving.

It was almost too much.  “K-Khadgar.. you tread dangerous waters, Young Trust…” he murmured.  His eyes were closed, and so he didn’t see the mischief in his apprentice’s eyes.

“I know,” the answer came softly. “I... I don’t know...  how else to…”  There was a pause, and the hand faltered.  “I... There must… I …”  His other hand was pulling at Medivh’s shoulder now, insistently.

Medivh opened his eyes and answered that insisting pull, leaning down over Khadgar as he was suddenly pulled into a desperate kiss.  One of his hands moved automatically, moving to pull at the laces of Khadgar’s pants, and ignored the soft protest. He started to tug at the fabric, his control beginning to evaporate.  He had to do _something_ before he was pushed past the point of reason.

“Talk to me, Khadgar,” he breathed, desperately, his lips brushing Khadgar’s.  “Tell me what you know of this. I won’t put you in a position you don’t know you’re getting into.”

“I know enough,” Khadgar temporized.  “Stories. Some books I’ve read. I… I just don’t know…”

“Specifics?”

“Yes.”

Innocent, but not innocent. It was borderline, and after a moment of internal struggle, Medivh gave in.  “I cannot deny how badly I _want_ you, Khadgar.  I don’t want to hurt you, but I … I don’t know if I can stop—“

“I told you,” Khadgar murmured. “I… I’m in my right mind. I want this. I want _you_. I _trust_ you.”

Medivh’s lips crashed into his apprentice’s in a short, but heated kiss.  “Lift your hips then.  These need to go,” he managed, tugging at Khadgar’s pants again.

Khadgar obeyed without a second thought, planting one foot firmly against the cushion beneath it, and lifting his hips.  He was careful to use the leg that was NOT trapped between Medivh’s, leaving him the freedom to move so he could pull the fabric away to join the puddle of color – now cream, crimson, black, tan comingled.

A final layer of black joined it a moment later.

While Medivh was busy carefully _not_ touching Khadgar, the younger mage took the opportunity to rake his eyes over bare skin.  Not that Medivh minded. Or that he didn’t return the favor as soon as he’d gotten Khadgar’s slippers off the cushion where the laces caught in the upholstery.

From the look in his eyes, Khadgar appreciated what he saw as much as Medivh did, as jade eyes ran down the – admittedly softer – lines of the younger man.

 _Light forgive me._ “There is still time to back out of this,” Medivh offered softly into the silence.

Khadgar shook his head. “I haven’t changed my mind.”

There was a brief flash of light, and the next instant, Medivh held a crystalline vial in one hand. He pulled the stopper out and gently spread some of its contents onto his fingertips, then gently nudged his hand between Khadgar’s legs.  The vial hung in midair as he worked, hands guiding the younger mage to a position that was more comfortable.

As fingertips found muscle, Khadgar gasped, but to his credit, did not pull away.  He remained still as Medivh brushed against the ring, feather touches growing firmer over time. Nothing invasive, just there, getting the younger mage used to being touched.

It took several moments for Khadgar’s trembling to calm, even as Medivh’s other hand rested lightly on his hip to steady him. Their eyes held one another as the older mage worked, and apprehension and the slight fear in Khadgar’s eyes faded to give way to the desire and want they had before.

Medivh pressed his middle finger firmly against the ring of muscle, but kept it on the outside. Khadgar shivered, but otherwise offered no reaction.   After a moment of steady pressure, Medivh let his finger sink against and within the ring, letting the silky oil do its work.

Khadgar gasped, one hand reaching up to steady himself against Medivh’s forearm, and apparently just seeking contact as the finger sank to the first knuckle, and Medivh paused again, waiting for the younger mage to adjust.  The muscle fluttered slightly, then began to relax, and Medivh let his finger sink to the second knuckle.

It was tortuously slow, and Medivh was rapidly losing patience – or at least his body was.  He felt Khadgar’s eyes shift before he saw them, and realized they had settled between the Magus’ thighs, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips as he stared.  Medivh bit his lip as he realized why his apprentice was so riveted; he was dripping onto the younger mage’s thigh. Not that he could do much to stop it, nor could he move so he didn’t.  He was balanced in a precarious position, half kneeling half hovering over the thigh in question.

Medivh slid his finger out, then pressed it back in. Slowly. Tortuously slowly, feeling the ring clench and give way, tighten and relax.  He would _not_ move faster – not when he knew doing so could seriously hurt his apprentice. He had to work Khadgar through this.

“Medivh?” The question was filled with nuances.

“Just relax, Young Trust,” Medivh answered absently, continuing to work.

“If…” Khadgar paused, and the swallow was audible, “if you need to move on… I—“

“I won’t risk hurting you, Khadgar.”

_“Hurt me then! I’m not seventeen anymore, Med. I’m not going to break if you hurt me!”_

The voice was familiar, but sounded… older.  A quick glance at Khadgar proved that the younger mage had not heard the words he had, though for an instant, he saw an older version of the young man beneath him – or thought he did.  It must have been an echo, and the words, and what they implied gave him some hope that perhaps… perhaps…

“It’s all right if you do,” Khadgar murmured.

“No,” Medivh replied softly, fighting not to snap. “Hurting you is the last thing I want to do – this is not about pain, and I intend to make it as painless as possible.”

Khadgar’s head tilted slightly, then he nodded thoughtfully.  He drew a deep breath, then sighed, slowly.  He was forcing his breathing into something slow and even, and he was murmuring something under his breath that Medivh recognized as a meditation exercise. The muscles around his finger began to relax, and Khadgar’s hips lifted slightly into the touch.  Medivh added his index finger, slowly, to the movement.  Khadgar gasped, and his eyes opened, but he did not protest.  The muscles remained relaxed as Medivh spread his fingers, drawing them out and gently pulling on the muscle from different angles.

Thank the Light his apprentice was so adept at learning and adapting quickly.  Even still, Medivh would not let this be rushed.  He withdrew to recoat his fingers before returning to continue working at the muscle, now tight, but flexible under his ministrations. He added a third finger with one motion, and Khadgar made a noise of longing, his hips lifting.  Medivh had to fight the instinct to move past this and … and…

No, no, not yet.

He began to thrust, shallow and even, with his hand and watched Khadgar for reaction.  He took in the widening of the blue eyes, the way the pupils dilated, and the way the lips parted slightly as his breathing caught.  Medivh slid in a little deeper with each movement, and Khadgar began to lift his hips to the touch, tightening slightly around the digits within him as they slid out, but was fully relaxed and eager to take him in again.

“Medivh…” Khadgar moaned softly, but the older mage silenced further words with a finger against his lips and a reassuring smile.  Though Medivh’s attention turned back to his hand and he curled the fingertips just a little to stretch the walls a touch, his attention was jerked back to his finger against Khadgar’s lips.

Khadgar had licked it.  And now his lips parted against it and was drawing it into his mouth and… “Khadgar, what are you…?” Medivh’s words were cut short as his apprentice began to _suck_ on his finger, running his tongue along it, and it was clear his mind was … elsewhere on the Guardian’s body. He couldn’t stop the shuddering moan that escaped him as his hand faltered to a halt.

The tiny noises Khadgar made as he continued to suck his master’s finger started to drive Medivh to distraction. He retaliated in the only way he could think of, and curled his fingertips outward and upward to brush Khadgar’s prostate.  Medivh was amused, and a little relieved, when Khadgar released his finger and cried out.

Instead of stopping the younger mage, however, this just spurred him in the direction of recklessness. His impatience started to show through as words again began tumbling from him, his eyes beginning to glow again, though they were nearly entirely pupil now.

“Medivh – Medivh, _please,_ I can’t take this anymore… Just… Oh, _Light,_ stop teasing me and…” His eyes rose and caught Medivh’s, his cheeks flushed, his lips parted so he could breathe.  Medivh wondered if Khadgar was even thinking at this point, and it was confirmed he was _not_ as the next words tumbled from his apprentice’s mouth.  “Stop teasing me and _fuck_ me, Medivh!”

It took more willpower to remain in control after that outburst than Medivh could have imagined. He withdrew his hand, ignoring the moan of loss from the younger mage, and reached for the vial again. _Light help me, I don’t want to hurt him, but oh by the grace of all that’s… when he says it that way… I can’t_ not _…_

Medivh bit his lip, sharply, and applied more of the oil to his fingers, and then to Khadgar’s cleft, making sure friction would be at a minimum.  He then applied a liberal amount to his aching cock, telling his body sternly that it _would_ wait.

The Guardian was enough of a man of honor to lean down to brush his lips against Khadgar’s, and offered one last chance.  “You’re absolutely sure about this.”

Khadgar wrapped both his arms around Medivh’s shoulders and kissed him – hard. “ _Yes_.” He shuddered, then added, “If you don’t do something _soon_ , I’m going to explode.”

More to keep his mind steady, Medivh drew back after another brief kiss, and replied, “That _is_ the general idea,” before settling himself between Khadgar’s thighs, and sliding one arm under the younger man’s knee and lifting it as he leaned forward to balance on his other hand, braced beside his apprentice’s hip.  It took all of his willpower to move _slowly_ , inch by inch and watching for signs of discomfort.

While there were no signs of discomfort, other than his arms tightening around the older mage, there were signs of impatience, and a need that Medivh could not deny. Not now. Once he was fully sheathed, he waited for Khadgar to get used to the intrusion.

Khadgar was having none of it.  He did not feel any pain (not now anyway), just an all-encompassing need, and a want that took him past any coherent thought.  His hips shifted restlessly, and keened when Medivh began to move with the little shifts, then rolled his hips to deepen the thrusts.

The sound was intoxicating, and Medivh found himself helpless to stop once he had begun.  His free hand moved to find one of Khadgar’s, then gave up (seeing as how both of the younger mage’s arms were entangled around his shoulders still) and curled around his hip instead.  Khadgar’s free leg wrapped around Medivh’s waist and pulled him closer.

The situation was degenerating rapidly, and Medivh was just as rapidly losing control over it. He could not seem to get enough of the little keening cries Khadgar made, or of the sight of his untouched cock twitching between them, weeping steadily. Worse, he could not keep himself quiet any longer.

He suddenly understood the words that tumbled from the younger mage’s lips as he realized he heard his own voice in counterpoint to the tiny cries radiating from beneath him. Too long; it had been too long and he had waited too long, but it was _necessary_ he told himself, even as he vaguely heard his words echo in his ears. “Khadgar, oh _Light,_ Khadgar, I’ve longed for this. Oh how I’ve longed for this…”

The words kept his pace steady, grounding him in the _here_ and _now_ , so he could concentrate and let the oil that eased their joining warm.  He carefully pulled back, prying himself away from Khadgar’s arms, which dropped to his sides, and his free hand found its way to entwining with one of the now free hands.  He shifted slightly, and lifted Khadgar’s knee a little higher, watching to see if this caused pain, or if the younger man was as flexible as he hoped.

He could have cried in relief when the leg shifted up to his shoulder on its own.  What _had_ his apprentice been reading?  His arm now free, he leaned forward to brace himself, shifting the angle just enough so that he might be able to…

“ _Oh_ Light _, Medivh!”_  Yes, he found the right angle at last. The keening wail turned into a series of desperate cries, and Khadgar’s hand tightened around his, the other clutching the cushion at his side. Medivh’s thrusts sharpened, became more erratic, and his hand lifted, still entwined with Khadgar’s, to shift the fingers and curl around the younger man’s shaft, stroking it in time with his thrusts.

Khadgar didn’t scream, but the way he arched and his mouth dropped open suggested that he might have if he could give voice at all. He was coming undone with such rapidity that Medivh was torn between guilt for having stripped his apprentice of so much innocence in so short a time, and a possessiveness that bordered on becoming an obsession.  _He_ had claimed this boy – this young man, this beautiful, brilliant being – so thoroughly that he would be ruined for anyone else.  That he was barely past “of age” ceased to be a consideration.

For the space of a heartbeat, he considered pulling their hands away and seeing what would happen, but it was too late. Khadgar was trembling again, and the way his cock throbbed beneath their hands, the way his balls were tightening, it would be too late anyway.  Instead, he watched.  He watched as Khadgar’s breathing sharpened, as the voice found itself again, _sobbing_ Medivh’s name as though it were an incantation that would save him.  His eyes were glowing a brilliant cerulean and his hips were moving of their own accord, seemingly unable to process whether to thrust into their entwined hands or into Medivh.

In the end, it didn’t matter.  Even as Medivh kept his movements steady, Khadgar was arching, and his voice – oh his voice tried his patience. Wordless, but insistent, breathy cries resolved into wordless begging, his own hand trembling in Medivh’s as he tried to speed their pace.  Even with having taken the first edges off his apprentice’s arousal earlier, Medivh was surprised that Khadgar had lasted this long – though the newness and perhaps a bit of the pain and worded distraction had been enough.  He let their hands speed up just a little, and it seemed to be enough.

“Oh, Light… Oh _Light…_ Medivh – I – I-I’m… _Medivh, oh Light, Medivh… **Medivh-!**_ ” From the moment the first words fell from Khadgar’s lips, Medivh knew what was coming – and there was no stopping it.  His eyes, wide with desire, dark with lust, closed briefly as he fought for control.  He would not hurt the younger man because… just because…

The heat that splashed against his stomach and chest changed his mind – or rather caused his mind to check out entirely.  He couldn’t stop the last, rough, thrusts. He couldn’t stop his own mantra of Khadgar’s name. And he couldn’t stop the release that he had waited for, longed for, dreamed of – claiming Khadgar as his own.

And he had not known if in his ecstasy Khadgar had greyed out, whited out or blacked out, or if he was lucid as heat filled him.  The cry of aftershock and the sharp tightening of muscle around him told Medivh that Khadgar was perfectly aware.

Medivh’s arm trembled as he struggled to stay upright, tried to control his breathing.  His release had been a shock to his system, much like an assassin had come up behind him and hit him hard in the back of the head.  He looked down, instead, to find Khadgar’s eyes, glowing, meeting his, wide with surprise.

“K-Khadgar?” Medivh managed, shakily. “Are you—“

“So.. beautiful…” Khadgar murmured, reaching up to brush a lock of hair from Medivh’s eyes.  The movement fluidly moved into tugging Medivh down against him, which Medivh readily gave into, once he had carefully disengaged himself from his apprentice.

Neither of them spoke for long moments as they caught their breath.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Medivh murmured softly against Khadgar’s ear.

“A little.  It’s supposed to hurt a little, the first time, though.  The end result was… worth every twinge.” Khadgar replied, warmly.

“I wish there had been no pain, but, it seems you were prepared for it and to work past it.” Medivh lifted himself up a little on his elbow to look over his apprentice’s face. “What did you find so beautiful?” he asked curiously.

“Your eyes.  They glow violet when you… um…” Khadgar blushed.

“Yours glow a very lovely shade of blue,” Medivh countered, smiling.  He leaned and kissed Khadgar softly, which earned him a more enthusiastic kiss and arms folding around him.

“They do?” Khadgar asked as he broke the kiss.  His arms remained where they were.

“They do.  You have to be careful of that, though; if you’re not careful, you could cast in that state.”  Wide eyes stared at him in surprise. “Oh, I’m quite serious. I.. learned this the hard way, on my own one night. I had no one else to focus on, and I set my room on fire.”

Khadgar chuckled, but his blush told Medivh more.  “I never had that happen. Then again… I never…” The blush spread.

“Are you telling me then, that my touch was the first of its kind?” At Khadgar’s nod, it was Medivh’s turn to look mildly surprised.  He had wondered, but now it was confirmed. “And you let me…”

“I wanted it,” Khadgar said softly, but his voice was insistent. “I have had more than ample opportunity to… experiment on my own. I even tried – once. It… It didn’t feel right.  When you touched me – earlier – it felt right, and I…” he blushed again, “I was lost to it. Fast. I… I tried to draw it out, but your hand was just so… perfect… and then while you…” His blush spread and darkened as he took a steadying breath. “I tried to hold on, just now.  The pain helped a little, helped keep me from just…” he coughed, still unused to talking about any of this. “But then you moved, and hit… something.  I thought it was over, right then. I was seeing spots like stars, but I managed not to. It was too good to let it end so fast…”

“It was all I could do to keep myself from just taking you and having done with it.  Everything about you begs me to lose control,” Medivh admitted. “The end result was worth the wait, though usually I last much longer.” He smirked slightly. “Though, I _almost_ came when you ordered me to fuck you.”

The look on Khadgar’s face was too much. Medivh laughed, the sound warm. “I didn’t.” Khadgar protested. He didn’t sound all that sure of himself.

“Oh you did.” Medivh kissed him softly. “And I admit, I rather liked it.”  He shifted, then fluidly got to his feet. “And though I’m loath to move, we would be far more comfortable resting somewhere less confined.” He dug through the pile of clothing for a moment and cleaned himself off with his shirt absently, then pulled his pants on, leaving the laces looser than usual.  He eyed Khadgar for a moment, then draped his robe over the younger man’s chest. “Slide that on; the hallway will probably be drafty at this time of night.  A warm bath, and then we can rest easier, yes?”

Khadgar sighed, still blushing as he hesitantly slipped the robe over his head.  It was too large for his frame, and much too long. It didn’t seem to matter, though, as Medivh had gathered the rest of their clothing and dropped it unceremoniously on top of Khadgar’s chest, then lifted his apprentice and cradled him close to his chest. “Arms around me,” he instructed. Khadgar obeyed without hesitation.

“But—“

“Did you think I’d leave you to yourself after that? I’m not in the habit of making a partner sleep alone after such an experience.” Medivh grinned as he took the stairs down through the library and padded out the door. “Besides. How do you expect me to give a repeat performance – provided you’re up for it – if you’re downstairs, and I’m upstairs?”

Khadgar had no answer to that, other than to blush.


	2. Cherished

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of fluff, some feels.  
> And a dose of angst.  
> Poor Medivh is running out of time.

II. Cherished

Khadgar woke to find himself in a very odd position. His bed, or at least his pillow, was breathing.  Instead of opening his eyes, he assessed with touch.  His pillow rose and fell with slow, even movement, and his hand, next to his cheek, identified… skin.  A dusting of downy hair, skin, and warmth.  There was something around his shoulders; cradling him.  When was the last time someone had held him? He couldn’t remember.  He shifted slightly, and realized that he was wearing absolutely nothing; his bare skin sliding against the sheets as he shifted. He was oddly… sore, but very content. He was warmer than he would usually be when he woke, as well.  That may have had something to do with whoever he was against. On. Whatever. Or it could have been that the room was warmer than he was used to.

His eyes snapped open.  The room was unfamiliar. It also hummed softly with the power of a nearby ley line.  He looked around in the dim light and saw that the room was somewhat more ornate than he expected.  Several tables holding stacks of books or correspondence. A desk littered with more correspondence, a diagram of an arcane rune circle, several bottles of ink, a quill that looked as though it had been chewed and two that were in perfect condition, a glass pen that glowed dully… the outline of a wardrobe. A set of comfortable chairs beside a banked fireplace. What looked like bookcases. A spark of recognition; he was in Medivh’s bedroom.

He lifted his head and a voice murmured above him, “Yes. That happened.”  Khadgar’s eyes turned very round, very quickly, and he shifted just enough to turn his head comfortably.  He was laying on Medivh. His master. The Guardian.  Before panic could set in and send him scrambling backwards, Medivh’s arm tightened around him. “You’re comfortable. I’m comfortable. You’re warm, and a very pleasant bedpartner.  Calm, without snoring loudly or stealing blankets or anything of the sort.  I had wondered if I would find you a tangled mess, or … well other things.” His smile was warm. “I did not expect to wake to find you cuddled against me.”

“I… I’m sorry?” Khadgar offered, having no idea what to say to this.

“Mm. Don’t be.” Medivh stretched gently, something in his lower back cracking as he moved. “Like I said, you’re comfortable. I’m comfortable. Moroes seemed to have guessed what went on; he left a note advising us to “sleep in”.  My guess is that he doesn’t expect us before lunch.”  He dropped his eyes to Khadgar’s.  “Don’t look at me like that,” he murmured.

Khadgar’s eyes were still very round, and though he thought he had dreamed whatever happened last night, waking to find himself not only in Medivh’s bedroom, but in his bed, curled up against him…

Medivh’s heart began to sink, slowly. “Have I frightened you somehow that I might repair?” he asked quietly.

Khadgar saw the flash of hurt in his master’s eyes and very quickly shook his head. “No! No, that’s not it at all… I … I just… didn’t expect that… well… This.” To his relief, Medivh looked a bit less hurt.

“That I would take you into my bed as readily as into my arms?” Medivh asked softly. Khadgar nodded. “Well, after what you confessed to me, I saw no reason not to.  If I could move you up here permanently, I would, but…” his voice trailed off.  “There are still a great many things for you to learn, and should you survive that, I see no reason for us to maintain separate beds.”  His hand cupped Khadgar’s cheek and drew his face closer so he could press a kiss – a brush of his lips, really – against his forehead. “Not to say,” he went on, “that there won’t be a good many occasions where you will wake here.  Last night was not as heat-of-the-moment as might have been believed, considering your injury.”

Khadgar offered a tenuous smile to the teasing. “I… If I may be so bold, it was and it wasn’t. I just… I guess when I hit my head, it was like a heady wine.  I didn’t mean to say any of what I did.  I didn’t think it appropriate.”

“But you did say it, and it was appropriate. Like I said last night, I cherish that you are usually open and honest with me.” Another brush of lips against Khadgar’s temple. “And it is appropriate. Had you said nothing, you would begin to pine. You know why mages are not encouraged to … bond. Yes?”

Khadgar shook his head. “Only that we were supposed to discourage close relationships.”

“All the more fools, they, then.  It is discouraged because if your heart is not with your mind, your casting is flawed. Altered.  You may try one thing, and wind up with another. That could get you killed rather swiftly.”  Medivh looked down and his fingers stroked Khadgar’s cheek thoughtfully. “Then again, I wonder if that is why you seem to have a slight aversion to the arcane element… because I am so proficient. Hm?”

Khadgar blinked. And blinked again.  His eyes turned inward as he thought about it. Medivh waited patiently for him to work the answer out, smiling slightly and content with letting his fingers brush Khadgar’s hair out of his face, tracing the line of his cheeks, his jaw, his chin.

It took Khadgar several moments to begin forming an answer, and he talked it out as he did. “You are vastly superior to me in the arcane element, while I always excelled in fire,” he said slowly. “I am intimidated by your mastery and skill, and my confidence, in that face, falters. Thus I fail,” he murmured. “But I admire you, look up to you, and my failures make me feel unworthy – and thus I falter. And I fail again twofold.” His eyes turned out again, and he looked up. “And because I admire you, your mastery, your skill, and I …” he blushed, “crave your approval and admiration, I try harder – which in this case can be disastrous.”  He frowned.  “So, because I feel so strongly toward you, I am not only intimidated, I am driven to further failure?”

Medivh nodded with approval, and praise came in the form of another brush of his lips against Khadgar’s temple. “Very good. Now, Young Trust, how do we get past this barrier?”

“The easy answer is that we… give up what we just learned.  We wipe the slate clean and I bury my feelings – my personal ones, not necessarily the admiration – and forget my desires and my feelings for you, or at least drive them away so that I can learn properly.” Khadgar tried to remain neutral, but even as he spoke, he wondered if he could suppress the emotions that had bubbled up and erupted the night before.  He did not want to stop loving Medivh, no matter the cost.  But… on the other hand, his apprenticeship meant more to the world and if he had to empty himself of emotion, wasn’t that a price worth paying to protect it?

“Ah, but I’m not looking for an easy answer, Khadgar.  Suppressing emotions is not healthy, as we found out last night.  They well up, and if suppressed, will eventually explode out of us at the worst possible time.” Medivh shifted, pulling Khadgar closer. “Tell me, what would have happened if you didn’t confess last night, and we found ourselves in battle, and I was felled?”

Khadgar tensed, and he shook his head violently. “No, no I can’t.”

“You can. Tell me.”

Khadgar closed his eyes for a moment, and pictured a scenario where this may have happened; Medivh surrounded, Khadgar helpless to do anything but watch.  When his eyes opened, they glowed blue, and his hands burned.

“And there’s your answer.  You’re already calling power to you, and you would have done something reckless, yes? Anything that may buy me time?”

Khadgar nodded, miserably, forcing his body to relax and disperse the power he had called.  The ley line was far too close to him and he realized that he was a danger to Medivh here.  His head lowered back to the Magus’ chest. Unbidden, the words slipped out of him, as they had last night. “Losing you would kill a part of me; part of my soul would.. just…”

“And now you see the danger.  One day, Young Trust, I will die, and it will be up to you to carry out my legacy.” Medivh’s hand moved to stroke the back of Khadgar’s head. “And if you killed yourself trying to save me, not only would that tear me apart, but it would leave Azeroth without a Guardian.”

Khadgar shuddered.  How could one person take on that much? How could one person stay … sane? Between the demands of the Kirin Tor and the demands of the position, the fact that Medivh was locked away in this tower alone – which Khadgar assumed he would be one day – with only Moroes and Cook, and having only magic, books, incessant pestering correspondence and the humming ley lines for company, he could not imagine staying sane.  It wasn’t that he didn’t love books more than people, but… the silence, the oppressive magics humming through the tower, the loneliness…

“I… I see how that could be a rather dire situation,” Khadgar said finally.  “But still… it’s… not fair to you to not have someone who would do that.”

“Life isn’t fair – you learned that at a very young age, did you not?” Medivh replied, his tone even.

Khadgar slid his arm more firmly around the older mage and cuddled closer. “I did. But that’s not going to change how I feel. Just… how I act about it.”

Medivh tugged Khadgar up to kiss him again. “And this is why I put my trust in you – and why I don’t regret what happened last night.”  He sighed quietly. “Because we can’t go back, you and I.   This is here, this is real, and it will change some of the things that happen here.  Perhaps for the better, perhaps not. We can only move forward to find out.”

“It’s certainly not going to change how much I have to learn, or how hard you push me,” Khadgar offered. “Perhaps there is emotion between us now, but I am still your apprentice, and I am your apprentice before I am your lover – if that’s… I mean…”

“If that’s what we are? Yes,” Medivh murmured quietly, thoughtfully. “And I must be your teacher and master… and I must still be the Guardian above all that goes on here.”

Khadgar was quiet for a few moments, his fingers tracing a pattern against Medivh’s side.  “Why must there be _a_ Guardian anyway?” he mused. “Why one person responsible for the entire world? I mean sure – there’s power involved, and then there’s _power_ involved. Knowledge and skill, political and secular pull… but in the end – forgive me – but you’re just one person carrying the weight of … of everything.”

Medivh’s hand stilled against the back of Khadgar’s head, and tensed.  After a moment, he resumed the gentle stroking, running his fingers through the soft strands of his hair.  Perhaps there was hope, if his apprentice saw the horrible flaws in the nature of the Guardian. His eyes were open. “Someone has to take responsibility.”

“But why just one person?” Khadgar insisted.

“One person is easier to mold and control than many.” Medivh smiled as Khadgar tensed at his words. “You’ve no doubt read the correspondence.” He grinned. “While I was resting, not so long ago? I knew you would – I knew as soon as I gave you the cipher key that you would go back through older correspondence.”

Khadgar blushed. “I did. And before you ask, I could read between the lines of pomp and praise. I won’t deny it upset me, even angered me, that they make demands of you as though they don’t even think of you as a person.”

Medivh’s hand paused again, trembling for a moment before he shifted enough to kiss the younger mage. “And you do?” he breathed against his lips.

“Of course I do,” Khadgar answered at once. “Behind the Magus, behind the Guardian, behind the skill and power, you are still just a man with … with a man’s needs, wants, and … and damn it, you have a right to want them.”

Khadgar almost yelped as he was pulled tightly against the Magus, his lips bruised by another kiss.  Perhaps, he thought, he had struck a nerve and he regretted it at once.

When they broke apart, Medivh murmured, “Don’t ever lose that vision, Young Trust. I… I never knew how much I needed you before you arrived here.  You came to me seeking knowledge and perhaps a future. As your master I intend to give you that future. As Medivh, the Keeper of Secrets, I can only hope that I can make that future into what you deserve, not as the Guardian’s Apprentice, but as Khadgar, my Young Trust.”

Khadgar blinked, having no idea what to say. For some reason, the words made his chest ache as though a vice had closed around his heart and lungs. He raised his eyes to Medivh’s and instead of finding something to say, found himself lost in the depths of the cool green irises gazing at him.  He tilted his head slightly, not realizing he had done so, and his lips brushed Medivh’s, even as their eyes held the other’s, promises written there that neither could really understand.

 

“Again.”

Khadgar was shaking, kneeling on the workroom floor, one hand outstretched, the other braced in a rune drawn on the marble floor in amethyst.  Sweat dripped from his hair as he looked up and called the power to his outstretched hand, and a bolt fired from his fingers to the target.  It was weaker than the last two.

“You can do better than that. Again.”

The relentlessness in which Medivh drove him was wearing him down faster than he could have imagined. The past week alone had sent Khadgar to his bed too exhausted even to think.  He collapsed every night, and woke at dawn the next morning wondering if he had slept at all.  He wanted, desperately, to beg for a break, but there would be no reprieve if he found himself like this outside the safety of learning, outside Medivh’s protections.

He took a deep breath, called, and cast. It left him feeling hollow and aching, and he waited for the command, knowing it would come.

“You’re taking too much time between calling the power to your hand and letting it go. Again. Faster.”

He pressed his palm flat against the floor, called and cast.

The bolt danced at his fingertips and did nothing.  He called again. And again. And again.  It was no use.

“Medivh.. please.. I can’t…”

“You _can_. Don’t think. Do.”

He shook sweat from his eyes, unwilling to move his hands, and called again. One heartbeat passed and he cast the bolt at the target, and the result was better.

“Again.”

The cast was a little faster, but less powerful.  His arm began to shake as the command came: “Again. Faster.” He called, but there was nothing left. He tilted sideways, his hand sliding, breaking the rune beneath it and was unconscious before he hit the floor.

Khadgar came to himself as a cup was pressed to his lips.  Instinctively, his tongue darted out to the liquid it contained. Water.  He drank obediently.  His head cleared a little as he realized he was propped against Medivh’s knees, one hand held the cup to his lips, the other held his head steady.  The cup was withdrawn once he drained it.  He tried to get up and a hand held him down.

“Don’t.  Just lie there for a moment.” Medivh’s words were soft, and tinged with regret. “I’m sorry I pushed you so hard.  You so nearly had it…”

“It’s okay,” Khadgar heard himself saying. “I just… I had nothing left.”

“But you kept trying.  When you arrived here you could not even muster the strength to try,” Medivh offered.

“Not ‘could not’. ‘Would not’.  I … I would not push my limits. I knew them, and you’ve shown me that it is good to know them, but on the same side of the coin, those limits will never expand if they are not pushed.”  He felt the brush of lips against his damp forehead as he spoke. “And now, before I could only manage one or two casts before I reached my limits. Now I… I lost count before I started to fail.”

“Seven. Each stronger than the last,” Medivh supplied.

“That’s not going to do me much good if I’m faced by another mage,” Khadgar growled.  His head was beginning to hurt. “If I had to duel you right now—“

“If you had to duel me right now, I could easily wait you out and end you quickly, yes.” Medivh sighed. “But, I doubt, were you to duel me, that you would choose only arcane bolts to fight with. Not when your strength is in flame.  You would hurl the strongest things at me first, weaken me, and then bluff and defend until I wore myself out and you could regain some of your own strength back.”

Khadgar thought about that for a moment. “I’d.. never thought of that tactic,” he admitted. “But I will keep it in mind.”  He tried again to get to his feet, but Medivh’s hand was still firmly against his chest.

“We should do that you know,” the older mage said, thoughtfully.

“Do what?”

“Duel.”

Khadgar blinked. “Now?!”

Medivh seemed to come out of whatever reverie he was in. “No, no, of course not now. You’re exhausted, and forgive me, but you’re also shaking like a newborn kitten.” His voice softened. “You frightened me for a few seconds when you collapsed.  You protested when I pushed, and you should have told me you had nothing left to give before you tried that last one.”

“The one before it was better—“

“Yes, yes it was, and you were already near the end of your strength, but you should have recognized – as I should have – that trying again would have done nothing.” Medivh’s hand moved from Khadgar’s chest to brush damp hair from damp skin. “I am proud of you for trying again, and I did not stop you because your eyes were so incredibly determined.”

Silvery blue eyes closed as Khadgar sighed. “I was hoping I could break past exhaustion.”

“It was enough today that you broke past whatever was keeping you from proficiency with the arcane element.” Medivh carefully supported him as he urged him to stand. “That’s enough for one day. Go take a long soak before dinner. Perhaps that will revive you enough for an evening you aren’t falling asleep on your feet, in the bathtub or collapsing onto your bed.  One of these days, you’re going to miss, and I’m going to hear about it from Moroes.”

Khadgar blushed. Was there _anything_ the castellan didn’t gossip about?

 

Khadgar took the advice, and after dinner decided he would actually take a break.  He climbed the stairs to the study, a book under his arm.  He set the book down on the table between the chairs by the fireplace and carefully started the neatly stacked logs to blazing.  The room wasn’t necessarily cold, but there was a chill coming off the windows, and as night deepened, he expected it to get cold.

Before he sat down, however, the bookcases in the room drew his attention.  He had brought up an old history book; a book he was in the middle of reading that had little to do with his studies, but he was curious about what was stored in this room.

He ran his fingers over the titles, and he realized that none of the books here were even remotely scholarly. Fiction novels; romances, adventure, comedy, plays and poetry. _I guess even Medivh takes the occasional break from studying…_   He ran his fingers over the spines and closed his eyes, selecting one at random.

The book was open and his eyes began devouring the words before he’d even settled back in his chair.  The one he had selected was from a series he had heard of, but had never actually read.  He blushed at first, having realized that even a “Steamy Romance” found its way onto the shelves in Karazhan.  As his eyes danced over the prologue, the story itself drew him in – a tale of a paladin, seeking fortune in adventure, artifacts lost to time, and to unravel history.

He did not hear the soft footsteps as Medivh approached him, riveted by the words on the pages. He did not see Medivh smile and cross to the shelf where the book had come from. He did not hear Medivh slide a book from the shelf and settle in the chair opposite him.

He also didn’t notice that Medivh was paying more attention to him than the book in his hands.

He soon realized why the series was called what it was as the paladin’s adventure took a turn that had little to do with history, artifacts or fortune.  He nearly closed the book, but found he could not.  A blush stole over his features as he read, his very active imagination able to picture what went on as easily as he had the artifacts described.

He did not hear Medivh chuckle softly from the other chair.

Khadgar shifted, slightly less comfortable as the words he read and the images they created produced a very physical reaction.

He did not see or hear Medivh stand up until the shadow passed over the pages and he looked up.

 

Medivh stepped into the study, one eyebrow lifted when he realized the fire was lit.  One of the chairs was occupied, and there was a history book on the table between the chairs.  His apprentice, however, was a quarter-tome deep into a romance novel.  He smiled, crossed to the bookshelf and slid a book of poetry from it, settled in the other chair, and opened it where a scrap of red ribbon had marked his place in it.

His eyes dropped to the poem he had paused on, skimming it, then going back over each word and verse. Khadgar shifted, and he looked up, and he ignored the book in his hands, finding Khadgar far more interesting.

He was a fast reader; the pages turned with almost clockwork timing. No wonder when presented with the library he had spent so much time there.  If reading a pleasure novel was so effortless, it spoke volumes as to what the young mage could do with ones that were instructive or descriptive of spell work, calculation and mechanism.

The sudden blush that heated his apprentice’s cheeks caused him to chuckle. And yet the young man did not look up. The blue eyes widened slightly, pupils dilating just a hair more than they should have.

Medivh closed his book and laid it aside, making no pretense that he was watching Khadgar’s reactions to the book.  The blush receded a little, and the lips parted. Which one was he reading to get that kind of reaction?

Medivh tilted his head and leaned a little to catch the title as the next page was turned. He smiled, then went back to Khadgar-watching, leaning back in his chair.  His eyes lingered on the parted lips perhaps a little longer than they should have, considering the tiny hitch in breath that marked the turning of another page.  The Magus’ gaze drifted downward as Khadgar shifted his weight, and he chuckled again. Were Khadgar anyone else but who he was, the words would have blurred until _that_ was taken care of. Instead, blue eyes continued to shift from one side of the page to the other in almost a rhythm. His loose pants were not loose now, and Medivh had to wonder how loose they were near the closure, considering that a seam was very enticingly stretched before the laces began.

Khadgar shifted again, trying to ease the tightness – and likely didn’t even know or realize was there, so entranced as he was by the book – one leg sliding to the side, the other knee lifting as the younger man’s weight shifted. Medivh noted that it did nothing good for the strained seam, and lamented that he was not wearing his usual robe, but a loose shirt and pants that were comfortable and unrestricting.

Usually.

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d split a seam in this room, and he wasn’t sure it would be the last.

He stood up and moved between the fire and the young mage’s chair, casting a shadow over the pages.  Khadgar squinted, not even noticing the shadow, just the fading light.  At least until he felt his master’s presence.  Medivh’s eyes dropped from the dark hair to the pages, reading the page his apprentice was on.

“Well,” he said softly. Khadgar’s head snapped upwards, his eyes round. “About time you found a book less dusty to read.”  The smile he offered was almost predatory.

Khadgar’s expression was priceless.  Lips parted, eyes round with surprise, pupils wide with arousal, a slight flush still apparent across his cheeks, and only beginning to register his own discomfort. “Ah.. I… I didn’t hear you come in,” he stammered slightly as he spoke, “I didn’t mean to—“

“Didn’t mean to what?” Medivh purred. Those lips looked so kissable, and those eyes…

“Um. Get lost. In the book. So I didn’t hear you. Did you need something, Magus?”

“Medivh,” he corrected, absently. One day, perhaps…

“Medivh,” Khadgar tried again, “did you need something from me?”

“Only if you’re willing to retire early,” Medivh said softly.  He leaned down and traced a finger over the stretched seam of the younger mage’s pants. “And let me take care of this for you.”

He realized Khadgar may not have heard the last of his words as he arched sharply upwards against the touch and his eyes rolled up and back.  Unable to stop himself, Medivh leaned and kissed him, deeply.  When he pulled back, Khadgar’s hands were shaking as he dug in his pocket and laid a length of ribbon between the pages of the book and closed it, carefully and deliberately, before setting it on the table on top of the history book – and the poetry book he had not noticed. Those hands reached up to pull him into another kiss, this one considerably shorter, and sweeter.

“I think… I think you could convince me,” Khadgar murmured.

Medivh chuckled and leaned to nip the younger mage’s earlobe. “Come upstairs then.”

It took two tries before Khadgar could get to his feet. Medivh caught him before he stumbled. Trying to walk as aroused as his apprentice was could not have been easy. He knew, because he was having similar difficulty.  It was difficult not to put Khadgar against the door of the study, or over the railing of the balcony and stairs that lead to it.  It was harder not to put him against the stairway wall halfway up the first set of stairs.

It was unbelievable what the young man could do to him just by watching him.  His courage earlier had stirred something even as his apprentice collapsed.  Granted, a hot bath, a round of good stew and time to himself had allowed him to recover quickly, but watching him slowly become aroused at what he read…

It was a miracle when they reached his door.  When he managed to get it closed it was another miracle. He turned to look at his beloved student as he touched the door and locking it, set it to unlock come morning, and turned from it.

“I wasn’t sure I was going to make it up here,” Khadgar admitted.

“That makes two of us,” Medivh replied. “But we did.” He swallowed and took a deep breath to clear his head. He nodded to his wardrobe. “Second drawer down on the left side,” he said softly. “On the right side are two vials. Bring the silver one – and strip.”  He paused, then added, “where I can see you.”

Resisting the urge to lean back against the door when Khadgar turned away to follow instructions, he moved to the bed and perched on it, with all the outward appearance of calm, despite his very obvious arousal.  His eyes traveled the lines of Khadgar’s back as the younger mage followed his directions and extracted the silvery vial.

_He is lovely._

_Shut up._

_Touchy, aren’t we?_

_Shut **up**._

_Well, then. I guess now isn’t a good time? I wonder what that lovely throat would look like with a thin claw mark torn across it…_

**_Shut UP!_ **

_Or perhaps his eyes tinted green? No? You hold his heart do you not? Perhaps you would like to remove it and keep it as a keepsake?_

**_Light DAMN you to hell. SHUT UP!_ **

Khadgar turned in time to see Medivh with his eyes closed tightly, lips parted, and he gasped.

Medivh opened his eyes a moment later, and tilted his head. “Something wrong?”

“You looked… like you were…”

“Just … impatient.  Watching you read… and slowly rise to the state you are now in rather took its toll,” Medivh smiled, then held out his hand for the vial.

“This is the one you wanted?” Khadgar passed the vial over, and Medivh nodded at it, holding it up to the light, then looked back at Khadgar. Before he could open his mouth to remind him of his other instruction, the younger mage took a step back, sliding his feet out of the sheepskin slippers he wore, then slid his shirt over his head, letting it fall from his fingertips to pool on the chair beside the nearest worktable. He almost smiled at the way Medivh’s eyes followed his every move, and his hand paused as the fabric slid away.  With one hand he tugged the lacings on his pants free and slid them and his underclothing off at the same time.

Medivh’s hand tightened on the vial as he watched, and his other hand curled into the bedding.  He set the vial on the table beside the bed, and then held out his hand.  After a moment’s hesitation, Khadgar stepped forward and put his hand in the Magus’.

It was not the first time he had Khadgar in this room.  It was the first time since his… struggle… began in earnest.  He was well aware of how much, in his lucid moments, he was pushing the young mage, but he had to. He _had_ to.  And he was well aware that this was probably his last chance to have his apprentice so close to him.  The Emissary was due the following afternoon, and his time would be taken up by that, as well as fine-tuning everything Khadgar had learned.

His soul depended on it.

He pulled Khadgar close and hugged him, fighting the urge to spill his secrets into his ear. But he had to trust the younger mage to learn, to figure it out. He had to… trust.  Perhaps that was why he was sent someone with the name.

“Medivh?” Khadgar murmured, his arms warm around the older mage.

“I’d like you to do the honors,” Medivh said. “You’ve never tried to disrobe another?”

“No sir.”

Medivh bit Khadgar’s earlobe and ignored the yelp. “Don’t call me ‘sir’ in the bedroom. That’s just wrong, isn’t it?”

“I never thought of it that way – It’s … been weeks since…”

“And I’m sorry about that. Things… are happening. You must be ready for it.”

He could feel Khadgar tense at the warning, but Medivh was unable to explain.  Instead, he sighed encouragingly as he felt hands slide down his back and hesitantly tug at the hem of his shirt and draw it upwards. Instead of pulling the fabric, one hand, then the other slid up Medivh’s back; the fabric just happened to be in the way.

_His hands are lovely too._

_Fuck. Off._

_Isn’t that what you’re about to be doing? Well. We._

_Stay the hell away from him._

_Still touchy are we?  I guess we should discuss this when you’re not so distracted by those lovely hands. Or that perfect mouth.  Or those eyes – those eyes you so casually stole the innocence from when you first defiled—_

_Stop it._

_He will be perfect once you are gone._

_Leave him alone._

_Do you love him, mage?_

_…_

_Do you?_

_…_

_I wonder what he’ll feel like.  Will he moan for me like he did for you?_

_SHUT. **UP**._

Medivh sighed as the shirt slipped over his head and joined the pool of fabric in the chair.  He leaned back as Khadgar’s hands danced over the stretched seam, lifting an eyebrow at it before tugging the lacings free and sliding pants and unders down his outstretched legs.  His eyes closed for a moment, and he gasped as hesitant fingertips brushed his shaft, followed by a curious tongue. _Light help me…_

_Not this time… …He’s talented._

**_GO BACK TO THE FUCKING NETHER!_ **

One of Medivh’s hands lifted to brush Khadgar’s cheek, neither to discourage or to encourage. He would let this happen at its own pace.  He heard the cloth drop onto the chair, then to the floor; Khadgar’s arm didn’t quite reach far enough, and it seemed as though the younger mage was loath to pull away.  His eyes looked up at Medivh, who looked back at him with eyes half-closed.  This was the first time the younger man took the initiative, and the older mage wasn’t about to stop him.  Especially not if he was going to do _that_.

Medivh brushed the hair from Khadgar’s eyes and remained as still as he could.  The younger mage had either done some very extensive research or he was a natural at finding all the right spots to dig the tip of his tongue into, press lips to, or drag the barest hint of teeth over.  His free hand was buried tightly in the duvet, white knuckled. He didn’t bother to stay quiet, and it seemed that every sound he made caused Khadgar to be that much bolder.

At least until the younger mage drew back, looked up enough to meet Medivh’s eyes, then dropped his own to close those perfect lips around his mentor’s tip, and slowly take him in.

Medivh’s hand dropped away and rather than do something he would regret, let it join its twin curled around a section of the duvet.  He forced his hips to _be still_ lest he cause his apprentice harm… but oh _Light_ he was good at this. The first noise Khadgar made caused him to open his eyes in surprise.  The tiny moan vibrated oddly against his skin, but when he looked down, his apprentice’s full concentration was on what he was doing – and he was determined.  One hand lifted to push Medivh’s thigh further out, the other … the other…

The other was brushing hesitant fingertips along his own shaft.  He bit his lip and forced his body to stay _still_ , but that sight was so nearly his undoing. He had to stop this before it ended before it started. “Khadgar?” he said softly, but firmly enough to gain the young man’s attention. It didn’t work. “Khadgar.” He tried again, more forcefully.

Khadgar pulled back, none too quickly and looked up with flushed cheeks and wide eyes. “D-Did I…?”

“Nothing wrong, dear one,” Medivh murmured, reaching for the hand on his thigh and pulling on it. “You… you are _very_ good at that.”  He smiled a little at the shy grin that was the response to the remark. “And I think you knew it, considering…” He managed to pull Khadgar close enough to lean down ad murmur in his ear, “considering that you were touching yourself while you did it.”

Khadgar gasped softly, clearly not realizing he had been doing just that.  For a moment he didn’t move, and then he was a blur as he tackled the older mage, pinning him to the bed, one leg wedged between Medivh’s, his lips hot on his master’s.

For a moment, Medivh started to wonder if … if…

_No, I’m still here.  But oh, what it would be like to—_

_Don’t. Even. **Fucking**. **Think**. About it. Go **away**._

_Fine. Have your fun. Make certain the memory lasts._

_Fuck off. **NOW**._

His arms were around Khadgar’s back, and he was arching up against his thigh, only remotely realizing that in the heat of the kiss, Khadgar’s hips were moving insistently against Medivh’s thigh, and making tiny noises.  Carefully, the Magus nudged his apprentice to straddle him, his hands curled tightly around Khadgar’s hips and pulling him down.

The sound Khadgar made when their bodies collided was pure torture. Not that Medivh was quiet about it.  Before Medivh could say anything, Khadgar had molded his body against his, and their lips met in a kiss born of desperation.

There was no finesse in how they moved, Medivh’s hands holding Khadgar against him, fingers firmly implanted in the firm flesh of his ass as he arched upward, Khadgar’s hands holding the sides of Medivh’s face as their kiss deepened.

When the kiss broke, the keening wail that fell from Khadgar’s mouth brought Medivh to his senses.  He tried to lift the younger man, but he feared it was too late for them both. Khadgar was trembling, his aim was faltering.

“Khadgar… Oh Light… Khadgar… we … I can’t…” Medivh tried to get through to his apprentice, but Khadgar shook his head.

“Can’t stop… Oh please, I can’t… _Please_ , Medivh, I need to…”

Without knowing exactly how, Medivh managed to get his hand between them, fingers closing around both of them and keeping Khadgar’s cock against his own. It was too fast, too much and it was all Medivh could do to keep his hips moving upward as Khadgar’s pressed downward.

Over the weeks they had been lovers, Medivh quickly found that his usually quiet apprentice was quite vocal in the bedroom – and could be quite loud. The Magus lived for the sounds Khadgar made, the tiny moans, the words, and the keening cries when he was approaching the point of no return… and how he always managed to wail his name as he crashed into completion.

Medivh also realized that he, too, was much more vocal than he had ever been with any of his lovers of the past, and wondered if this meant something or not.  Though it wasn’t like he ever intended to take another lover.  Khadgar was all he could have ever asked for.

“Oh Light don’t make me stop now,” Khadgar hissed, pulling back from another heated kiss. “Too close… oh _Medivh_ I can’t stop I’m too close…”

“Don’t stop,” Medivh hissed back. “Press _harder_ , Khadgar. Yes… yes that’s it… almost there.. just keep going.”  His hand tightened around them, and he realized that he wouldn’t last much longer than Khadgar – if he lasted _that_ long.

Khadgar pulled his head back just enough to search Medivh’s face, and his eyes widened.  Very abruptly he seemed to switch tactics with the blazing speed of mind that Medivh had come to love so much. From the surprised look, he hadn’t expected Medivh’s control to have disintegrated so quickly.  His head dropped and he nipped Medivh’s earlobe. “I… I can… I can hold on… Just.. Oh Light Medivh, I need to… I want to feel you…” A pause. A deep breath. “I want to feel you come first.” The last words were firmer, stronger than the breathless gasps of the ones before.

Medivh’s hands tightened, one still pressed firmly against Khadgar’s rear, the other around their shafts as they moved. “Khadgar,” he moaned helplessly, those words setting his nerves on fire like nothing he’d felt with his apprentice yet.  It seemed as soon as he got to know the young man, he would spring yet another secret on his poor unsuspecting master. “Don’t try to… You’re right there… I can feel you… you… Oh … Oh _Light_ … Khadgar don’t stop! K-K-Khadgar...” He was arching upwards, and he could hear the tiny hisses of encouragement against his ear, little whimpers of his own name as he all but screamed as he all but exploded.

He only vaguely heard his apprentice’s broken moan of his own name as he followed in his master’s wake.

For several long moments, the only sound was their harsh breathing.  Medivh’s hands slowly loosened their respective holds, though he did register that both of them, despite the pair of rather desperate and explosive releases, were still … more than ready for a repeat.

Predictably, Khadgar was the first to move.  He lifted himself up a little, wincing slightly as his back cracked.  “I’m—“

“If you try to apologize for that, don’t. As you pointed out, it’s been a few weeks, and I’ve been hard on you,” Medivh murmured, withdrawing his hand from between them and stretching.  “I think we both needed that before we could move on to … better things.”

“Better things?” Khadgar echoed.

“Mm. Better things.” Medivh’s hand joined its twin against the small of the younger mage’s back. “You didn’t honestly think that would have exhausted me, did you?”

“Well, no, but—“

“Exactly.” The Guardian’s hands slid down his apprentice’s back to his rear and squeezed. “Yours is quite lovely.” He chuckled as Khadgar blushed, and added, “and I quite intend for it to be sore within the hour.”

“Ah. Um.” Medivh laughed as Khadgar grew more flustered.

_He is so easily embarrassed, despite that you have … ravaged him before now._

_Didn’t I tell you to go to Hell?_

_Only when I drag you down with me,_ Magus. _And take that whelp with me._

_You. Will. Not. **Touch**. Him._

Medivh leaned up and kissed Khadgar’s cheek.  “So. How was it, getting to hold domination over me?”

Khadgar blinked, looked down and his blush spread to his ears, down his neck and across his shoulders. “I didn’t even…”

“Realize? You tackled me. Rather effectively too. Remember that, for the future. No one expects a mage to think of a physical attack. Use it to your advantage. Though – I don’t suggest doing what you did after,” Medivh grinned as Khadgar shifted his weight to let him up.

“Oh I don’t know,” Khadgar shot back after a moment, his blushes receding. “It might throw them off guard further, allowing me the time to cast something less reactive and more complicated.”

Medivh sat up a little and pulled Khadgar close. “If you’re that aroused by someone else, I might take offense.” His words were light, but the feeling behind them were quite serious.

More than content to cuddle, Khadgar slid an arm across Medivh’s chest. “No one has before, and I doubt any will again,” he said quietly. He laid his head on Medivh’s shoulder and found a hand stroking his hair. “You…”

Medivh chuckled when Khadgar didn’t speak for a few moments. “I?”

Khadgar cleared his throat and tried again. “You have filled an empty space in my heart that I wasn’t aware I was really missing before I came here.” Medivh pulled away slightly but his apprentice pulled him closer. “NO – no please, listen to me,” he said, fiercely. “The Kirin Tor, Dalaran… all of my studies at the Violet Citadel – they gave me knowledge. But it was cold. Many of those I studied with … well. They thought I was too curious.  The only one who treated me with anything of … not respect, exactly, but any kind of connection… was Guzbah. He tried to teach me with more than just cold instruction.”  Khadgar licked his lips before continuing, Medivh’s attention captured now. “I looked up to him. I respected and admired him. He was friendlier to me than … most.  We bonded, I guess. And then … I was sent here.”

Medivh continued to stroke Khadgar’s hair.  One of the things he cherished most was that he was … talkative… after sex. For that reason alone he would have installed the young man in this room permanently if he could. He had so much to talk about, and so much of it came from his heart. But, as he knew, like so many, some could not let the heart be unguarded until the body and mind were exhausted. “And instead of getting into his hair, you got into mine?” Medivh smiled at him.

“Well, yes.  But that’s.. I mean…” Khadgar took a deep breath and continued, taking the point. “Guzbah was a difficult taskmaster, but he was kind, at least to me. It hurt to read of his death in such a … cold accusatory… But… You… When I first arrived here, you terrified me. But you did not discourage me. As I said before, you encouraged me. Talked to me. With me. Not over me, or at me. Earlier, you pushed me to, and beyond, my limits. And yet, you are also kind and compassionate. You, I think, are the first person I considered ‘friend’, and so much more. I never imagined that I could feel so… so… complete.”

Medivh smiled, a warm, almost sweet, smile. “You’re dancing around your point, Khadgar,” he said softly, but no less accusingly.

Khadgar swallowed and Medivh waited for the words to come; he knew they would.  “I cherish every moment we spend together, Medivh. Even the ones where you have shouted at me, snapped at me, pushed me, angered me. And this…” he made a gesture to the way they were lightly entangled, “gives me the strength and will to get through those moments. And then gives me the strength and will to … to… believe in myself as you do.”

Medivh could not stop the tear that slid down his cheek at the words. Not that he wanted to.


	3. Crushed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter, but... again, the flow seemed to be best when ended where it was.  
> Awkward PoV change in the middle, but.. well. Not like I didn't do that last chapter as well.

III. Crushed

He closed his eyes as Khadgar’s lips brushed against his cheek, kissing the tears away.

_Tears, Magus. How sweet. I notice he can’t tell you he loves—_

_Don’t. Even. Go. There._

_You haven’t told him either._

_Shut up._

Medivh turned his head to capture Khadgar’s lips again, heatedly. He _should_ say it, should tell him the truth, but he couldn’t. Not with… now _wasn’t_ the time. Instead of thinking about it, he pulled Khadgar closer, urging the younger mage to straddle him.

Khadgar complied, drawing back from the kiss and tilting his head curiously. “Medivh?”

“Perhaps I like having you up there. It’ll be different.”

Predictably, Khadgar blushed. “What?” he asked, blinking.

“It’s time to push your limits,” Medivh murmured, arching himself a little and bringing them into contact. “We’ll see how well you do controlling the pace, hm?”

Khadgar moaned, driving his hips downward before regaining control over himself, and bringing himself to answer. “Probably not well, but… the edges are off so… perhaps…”

Medivh reached out his hand and the silver vial moved to it. “With a twist,” he murmured. He pulled the stopper from the vial and held it up to Khadgar, who took it gingerly.

“… I…”

“You’re used to making things via alchemy now. What can you detect from that?” Medivh asked.

Khadgar brought the vial to his nose and closed his eyes. The lids glowed faintly for a moment, and he lowered the vial. “Mageroyal petals,” he breathed. “Medivh… this … this isn’t going to make it easy.”

“Which is why you will be controlling the pace, and not me. You see the balance?” Medivh said softly.

“I…” Khadgar swallowed, then nodded. “I can see it. My control to your… your loss of…” He shuddered, his eyes closing briefly.

“Now, before you get lost in thinking about it,” Medivh murmured, taking the vial from Khadgar’s numb fingers, “lift yourself so I have access.”

“After what we just… I’m not sure if I even need…” Khadgar didn’t blush this time.

“And you think that, but I won’t risk it.  Not when I want you to draw this out as long as possible. For that, I want you stretched so you don’t hurt yourself.” Medivh tipped the vial and coated his fingertips, then reached up to slide them along the younger mage’s cleft, arm at a somewhat awkward angle between his legs.

Flustered, it took Khadgar a moment to relax and actually control his breathing. The first time had taken the longest; now it was a matter of reinforcing the teaching of the first few, less of stretching, more of reminding.  The moment Khadgar’s breathing was even, Medivh teased the area, then the ring of muscle, and slowly slid one finger in.  Khadgar’s breath caught. It was clearly different from this angle, and Medivh raised an eyebrow.  “Khadgar?”

“It’s all right,” Khadgar murmured. “Different. Took me by surprise.” His tone was soft and even, and after the first hitch in his breathing, he was calm.

Medivh nodded, though Khadgar could not see him through closed eyes. He added a second finger a few heartbeats later.  Khadgar’s muscles twitched, but there was no other indication of notice. The fingers spread apart, twisting to different angles, but with a wicked little smile, Medivh introduced the third without pause or waiting.  Khadgar rocked back and down onto them, his breath catching again.

“You _do_ want this. Like the idea of keeping me from going too far, do you?” Medivh chuckled. Khadgar’s answer was a soft moan. “Well then… You know how this works… I’ll hold still.”

Khadgar’s eyes opened, though he kept his breathing as even as he could, experimentally rocking his hips against his master’s hand.  His movements were awkward at first, stilted like his joints were made of incorrectly rounded wood.  By the time his movements were fluid, Medivh had snuck in a fourth digit, apparently without Khadgar noticing.

“Remember those motions,” Medivh murmured, withdrawing his hand and applying a generous amount of the oil infusion to his cock, hissing as it sank into his skin, then reapplied, just for good measure.  The vial, at a gesture, moved back to the bedside table, stoppering itself again.

He certainly didn’t expect, as he repositioned and aligned, that Khadgar would make the first move. Medivh hissed again, the swift intake of breath as much pleasure as surprise. The expression on his apprentice’s face only added to the shock. His hands quickly moved to Khadgar’s hips as they sank, and he realized that the younger mage didn’t need his guidance as he shifted his legs and arms to not only get comfortable for himself, but he was mindful of his master as though they were not two separate entities.

The Mageroyal was demanding, but Medivh lay as still as he could, lifting his knees to support Khadgar as he moved. He could see a faint glow already in the younger mage’s eyes as he moved slowly and deliberately, and it was torment, watching the concentration in Khadgar’s eyes.

_Etching that into your memory are you?_

_Stop it._

_Weakling. Do you realize how easy it would be to lift your hand and strike while he’s so vulnerable?_

_No…_

_And you would be powerless in your own vulnerability._

_Damn you. Stop it. Go. **AWAY!**_

**_No. I don’t think I will._ **

Medivh’s hand lifted to brush against Khadgar’s shoulder, across his throat and upwards along his jaw. His thumb brushed against one flushed cheek. Green eyes darkened by desire, and now something more sinister, watched the pulse flashing in the young mage’s throat, watched the lips part to moan. The hand returned to the mage’s side before lifting again, along with its twin, hands gripping Khadgar’s hips just beneath the point of pain.

Khadgar made a tiny noise of surprise, and looked down at Medivh.  The glow faded a little and his eyes went wide.

_No… NO! Damn you to every hell there is. I will NOT let you touch him. You WILL NOT HURT HIM._

_No? But he’s so trusting…_

_He sees you, and he has the sense to flee, even from this situation. He saw you, you fucking bastard. He saw you months ago._

_I should have destroyed him while you lay helpless. But destroying you both? That’s far better._

_You sadistic fuck._

Medivh’s hips began to move in counterpoint to Khadgar’s, trying to subtly speed up the younger mage’s movements.  He actually whimpered in frustration as Khadgar slowed down.

Khadgar’s mouth opened, and his lips moved, but no sound emerged. Not that Medivh could answer him, whatever it was he was trying to convey. He could feel the Mageroyal’s influence singing in his veins, and his body railed against being pinned beneath someone with more control.  Though – for how long, it was unknown. Eventually that same siren song would seize Khadgar’s body as surely as it had claimed his.

Khadgar shifted his position slightly, his hands pressing down against Medivh’s shoulders as his hips rolled – the same motion Medivh had encouraged him to remember. Those hands kept the older mage from arching, though it certainly didn’t keep his apprentice from doing so.  He had found the right angle to drive Medivh against his prostate, and that was both a blessing and a bane as his breathing caught, and another tiny sound fluttered from his throat.

_He won’t notice soon. And then he’ll be mine._

_Never! He’d sooner kill me than let you have either of us._

_Are you so sure of that? I seem to remember him saying he would be destroyed if you were gone._

_…_

_Nothing to say, Magus? No? What will it do to you, I wonder, if I send one of my own after his blood? One of the hunters would do well; sucking his life-force out of him with the arcane?_

_No… Please no…_

_Begging now? Shouldn’t you be doing that to him?_

Khadgar’s hands had tightened around Medivh’s shoulders, and his movements were faster, and the older mage realized he was keeping up with every move.  He could feel the familiar heat in his core beginning to spark with need. How long had they been here? How long had they lasted?

“Medivh… I… I’m sorry.. I can’t…”

_He’s so beautiful when he starts to lose control, isn’t he?_

_Shut up and go back to the depths of your depraved hell._

_Not on your life. I want to feel him shuddering when he breaks. I want to feel_ you _break beneath him. Because when you do… you’re both mine._

_No… no, by the Light I won’t let you…_

_You don’t sound so sure of yourself._

“I… I can’t either,” Medivh replied, breathlessly. Between the distractions of his internal struggle and the Mageroyal’s influence he was losing battles on multiple fronts. His body _demanded_ release, and as instructed, Khadgar was denying it.  Before he could stop the words from spilling over, he spoke again, his words hissed and his voice breaking. “You’ve denied yourself long enough… touch yourself for me. Let me watch you…”

Khadgar’s nails bit into the older mage’s shoulders. “I can’t…” he moaned. “If I do I’ll.. I won’t… I can’t… Oh Light…” As he spoke his hips drove downward at a faster pace.

Medivh’s right hand uncurled from its position on Khadgar’s hip and slid across his abdomen to curl around his cock, stroking him swiftly and firmly with the pace of their hips. Khadgar arched, a broken wordless cry torn from his throat.

_Yesss…_

It would be so easy to put Khadgar on his back and to the lowest hells with instruction or structure or anything else.  Medivh’s desperation was written in every snap of his wrist, every thrust, every beat of his racing heart.

Khadgar’s lower lip was between his teeth now, and a trickle of blood slid down his chin into his sparse beard. He tried to slow down again, but it seemed that he was unable. He shook his head, as though begging his own body to cooperate.

There was no turning back. The sparks in Medivh’s belly turned to molten fire. His head tilted back and he was shaking with the effort to hold on. He could _feel_ the glow in his eyes as they followed the droplet of blood as it slid down Khadgar’s chin. “Khadgar… Oh _Khadgar_ … please… I can’t take any more of this… I … I can’t hold… I can’t… I _can’t_ …”

Too close. He was too close. He could feel every shift in Khadgar’s position, every clench of that impossibly tight…

“Light… Medivh.. Oh Light Medivh.. Finish me.. Oh _Light… for the sake of all that’s holy Medivh **finish it!**_ ”

Medivh’s nails bit into Khadgar’s hip, his grip around the younger mage’s cock tightened as he concentrated all of his attention on the steady, swift movement of that hand.  His eyes devoured every nuance of the younger man – his parted lips, the panting, keening cries, the trembling as he tried desperately to keep moving as his hips faltered, thrusting down and into Medivh’s hand in short jerks of desperation.  And then he was screaming Medivh’s name, his body arched and a tensed trembling wreck as he came, spilling across the older mage’s stomach and chest.

Medivh followed in his wake, finally succumbing to the tight heat around his cock, the nails digging into his shoulders, raking down his chest as the young mage began to collapse, the blue glow of his eyes as they stared blankly at nothing. He could hear his own voice sobbing Khadgar’s name as he arched upward and spending himself in pulses no less explosive than earlier.

_MINE._

_No… oh Light no! NO! **NO! NO!!**_

“Nngh…” Khadgar pushed himself up from where he had collapsed across Medivh’s chest. He could see the glow of his own eyes reflected across the skin of the older mage’s shoulder as he slid Medivh out of him, trembling as he shifted to collapse beside, instead of on, the older mage.  As he looked up, he could see the Guardian’s eyes glowing, and for the space of a heartbeat was confused.

His eyes glowed green. Not violet.

It wasn’t the verdant green of Medivh’s stormy depths… it was a sickly color, and the power signature felt like the sluggish, sludgy, heavy _wrongness_ that Khadgar had felt when he attempted to cast in the tower in Stormwind, facing a broken protection circle where a demon had been called.

The glow in his own eyes faded quickly as he stared at Medivh, the color draining from his face.

Medivh looked up at him, his chest rising and falling quickly and more freely now that Khadgar had lifted himself. He blinked. “Is there something wrong?” he said softly.

“Your eyes…”

A hand lifted to brush damp strands of hair from Khadgar’s cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“They’re glowing… green.”

“Mm. Interesting… I wonder if that’s an artifact of having Mageroyal in my system.” Medivh tilted Khadgar’s head a little. “Ah.. yours have faded. I would have like to see if yours had tinted, since at least some of it got into your system as well.”

Khadgar relaxed just a little, then hauled himself off the bed, sliding away from his master’s touch with reluctance.  A moment later, he returned with a warm, damp cloth and began to clean up.  When Medivh tried to move, Khadgar stopped him. “Just relax… let me. That … took more out of us than I think was expected.  As soon as I’m done, I think I’m just going to curl up and never move from your side again.”

When Khadgar left him to put away the cloth, Medivh eyed the bed, shrugged, and changed the duvet. It wasn’t the first time he’d done so.  He turned the bed down and sat on the edge.  Khadgar had vanished. Before he could start to get upset, he realized that he had probably just gone to visit the facilities down the hall. Which seemed like a good idea.

His assumption seemed to be correct, as the door opened again and Khadgar slipped in, looking a bit more refreshed, hair damp, and the blood gone from his chin.  As Medivh passed him on his way out the door, he touched his lips to Khadgar’s forehead. “Go ahead and settle in.”  Khadgar nodded, looking tired, and Medivh padded out into the hallway.

As he stood in front of the polished mirror, he stared into his own eyes. They were darker, more the color of a threatening storm.

_It’s over, Magus. You have been a thorn in my side long enough._

_Just… please… don’t hurt him._

_Your legacy? The very boy you have been training to destroy me? Hardly._

_If I push him away…_

_You can’t do that. He’s far too deeply in love with you for that. You know it. I know it._

He could see the conflict in his own eyes, through the tears that welled in them. He bowed to the inevitable, and let them fall.

_The Emissary arrives tomorrow. It is time to put the plans in motion._

He ignored the voice, continuing to weep in silence.  When he managed to regain control of himself, he scrubbed the evidence away and returned to his room.  If he held Khadgar a little more tightly to himself as he fell into trouble sleep, perhaps the young man would attest it to the intensity of the intimacy they had shared earlier. He noticed that Khadgar had pressed himself to his side as though leaving space would somehow mean they were falling apart.

Perhaps they were. He trusted Khadgar to keep them together.

 

The following weeks turned Khadgar’s mind upside down. The arrival of the half-orc, Garona rankled him. No matter how hard he tried, he could not figure her out, and worse, Medivh had started acting colder toward him, and it hurt.

And when he finally managed to catch the mysterious woman, he found himself sore and bleeding and then irritated into a shouting match with his beloved master.  As he scrubbed away the dried blood from his mouth, he seethed. That demon had been real. He was still drained from the fight, and now the library was in worse condition than when he’d arrived.

By the time he found his bed that night, he was a miserable mess of conflict and hurt. The coldness in Medivh’s voice, the reminder that he could be sent away at a single word, the apparent and sudden reversal of all they had been…

His breath hitched, and tears burned his eyes. He was jealous. He was angry. He missed Medivh horribly – and the distance was like a dagger into his heart, turning and dragging. He wiped his eyes with his hand, and pulled his blanket closer. He would not do this. He would not turn into a wreck over this.

Medivh was right – if there was a way to solve the conflicts going on, there had to be some kind of talks.

But if there was more than talk?

He bit back the sob, turned his face into his pillow and wept. For what, he wasn’t sure. But the tears would not stop. He couldn’t keep his body from shaking with sobs that threatened to tear his throat. His anger turned inward.  He was more than old enough not to be this upset. It wasn’t as though he could claim that Medivh loved him. Medivh hadn’t said one way or the other. He hadn’t said one way or the other, either. Perhaps it was just a brief fling – He had been the one pouring his heart out. It was never Medivh who said much to either side.  Had he been deluding himself all this time, thinking that perhaps.. perhaps Medivh could see him as more than a student?

Apprentice.  He never even said his name until the end of the conversation. Misery twisted itself deeper as he replayed the entire shouting match over in his head. And then the fact that … that…

_“Young Trust, you have betrayed your name, and so must make restitution now.”_

Illusions. Delusions.

A fresh flood of tears, hotter than before spilled into his pillow, and he lacked the strength or will even to sob anymore.

Who was he to think, even for a moment, that he mattered?

 

His muscles ached as he wrenched the repaired bookcase into a standing position.  He and Garona had a tentative … he wouldn’t call it friendship, but at least they were talking, and not fighting. She continued to reaffirm that he was not insane – she had seen the demon as clearly as he had.  As he slid books – the ones that were not in need of some kind of repair – into the shelves, she reminded him of the blood – the blood that had mysteriously vanished.

Khadgar looked at the book in his hand, as though wondering if any had found its way onto any of the books that needed to repair.  He paused, eying the shelf, then slid the book that was in his hand into it.

Putting distance between himself and Medivh had hurt, but he kept it hidden well. He filled the empty space with orcish politics, lore and history.  He and Garona began to spend more time together than apart, and though she never offered to help him when the messages came, he did not bother to hide them as he broke the purple seal on them and began decoding.

They became more and more distressing, and Medivh seemed not to care.

The Medivh he had known seemed to have retreated into a moody old man, his hair a touch greyer than it had been, his eyes distant.  As he reported the most recent translations, Medivh dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

Khadgar’s heart broke as he heard the last words as he closed the door behind him.

“I am so tired of worrying about everything. When can I worry about myself?”

Closing his eyes and his heart, Khadgar pulled the door shut.


	4. Crumbled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this to be longer, but ... I couldn't.  
> This is disjointed; it's meant to be.

IV. Crumbled

Medivh stared out  at the stars, the one comfort left to him. He hated what he was becoming, and he couldn’t even say it was he that was becoming the parody of what he once was.

When Moroes began to stop gossiping, he realized that the damage was far more extensive than he could have imagined.

_I’m pushing everyone away who even remotely cared._

_It’s necessary isn’t it? They can’t know. They can’t see._

_Khadgar knows. He must know. He saw—_

_Oh yes, and he’s here now, isn’t he? Pestering you with questions?_

_…_

_The hurt in his eyes when you wouldn’t even call him by name… so exquisite._

_Damn you…_

_It’s all right, Magus. We have work to do._

First Llane. Then Anduin. And now Khadgar, and even Garona. Maybe there was still hope, if they still cared.

He glanced down at his notes.  The last few entries were tear-stained, blurred, and when he looked back up, clouds had obscured the sky. This tower was a prison, and he was the one imprisoned in it.

_Do stop wallowing in self-pity. It isn’t becoming._

He stood up, and with a parody of his old self, walked to the door and called for Moroes. He needed to be elsewhere for a while.

 

When he returned, he could feel the shifting energies in the tower.

_Your lover calls more visions.  His curiosity will be his undoing before I can get to him at this rate._

_Leave him alone, damn you._

Curiosity led him down into a room little used, and heard voices. Ah. Of course.

_Best to let me handle this, Magus. You might talk too much._

Medivh tried to claw through the fog in his mind, but could not – his senses were all functioning well; hearing, sight, touch – all there, but he could not think for himself, could not speak.

Regardless of where the demon looked, his eyes focused on his apprentice. There was pain lining the features that had seemed so much younger … was it only a couple of months ago? The blue eyes were silver with distress. His voice cracked as he pleaded for answers.

 _That damn magelet dares? He_ dares _._

_… he remembered…_

_Damn that insignificant whelp!_

He was pushed further back in his own mind as claws tore at the protections. He could not hear Khadgar or Garona now, but he could see they still spoke. Khadgar’s eyes glowed again as he incanted… and then silence descended on them all.

“You _dare_ strike your own mother?”

Medivh’s eyes widened and he stared, enraptured.

“Mother?”

He was only vaguely aware of Garona pulling Khadgar out of the room, staring at a vision that caught not only his attention, but Sargeras’.  His own mother’s word touched nerves, then electrified them. He could hear his own voice, begging, pleading, weeping, but he was still a prisoner. If only he could take it back. If only he could take it all back, but he was powerless.

_Enough with your emotional idiocy! It won’t matter – she’s too weak to take me again, too weak to take you at all. Damn it you fool wake up. Before those two get away – if they alert Stormwind you’re as finished as I am._

The vision faded, and he could hear his own voice screaming in impotent rage – his prey had escaped.

 

The pain helped. Emotion broke through and pushed Sargeras back – just enough. For the first time in more time than he cared to think about, he was himself again. But … he was a wreck of what he had been.

The tower was empty again. He felt nothing of Khadgar’s familiar presence, nor could he feel the peculiar one of Garona.  He had no idea where they had gone, but he hoped they were well away from here and the danger he was now.

The sky was no comfort to him, even as he gazed up at the stars. He turned the astrolabe in his hands, then glanced down at his notes.  They had been re-scribed, the tearstains were translated, and the hand was neat and not his own. Anger welled in him, followed hotly by guilt.

The astrolabe was mangled before he reached the mantel, and he laid it there, fearing to do more to it.  He backed out of the observatory. It was no longer a refuge.

 

He could tell Moroes was confused at his behavior, but, faithful as always, said little and didn’t ask questions. His oldest friend was no comfort; no matter how much the ancient castellan tried, tried, and tried again to get Medivh to talk, it was no use. It seemed even Cook was concerned, as both of them tried to get the Magus to eat something.

He wasn’t interested.

 

He paced the library, eyes focused on nothing, lost in what tattered thoughts he had left to him. He ignored Sargeras’ commentary as he took in the shelves, categorized, organized… clean. Khadgar had done his work, even after the incident with the demon he had called, well.

Two of the tables held neatly stacked correspondence – old and new, each laid with a translation.

The Order was dead. And he had killed them all.

The poem laid beside an unfinished translation.  He picked up the scroll and his eyes drank in the words.

His hands twisted. He did not stop until not a single verse could be read in tandem, letting the tatters fall from numb fingers.  He reached for the unfinished translation, intending to methodically shred each and every one of those letters, but he stopped. He did not read the words, but took in the script it was written in.

Delicate. Flowing. Each letter carefully carved in ink with a fine-point nib, wide accents, curled underscript, each letter finished off by a tiny curl that wasn’t really a curl but a flourish.

Khadgar’s work.

The library, too, would bring him no comfort; not when it had become his apprentice’s domain. His presence was laced in the very air.

The same air haunted his own room, where little remnants of memory lay. A pillow laid against a chair, a shirt forgotten hanging from the end of a table.

The vial still sitting on the bedside table.

He fled before he could destroy his own room.

 

A hand touched his chest as he reached the door to his hidden domain. Moroes. His eyes were confused, hurt, concerned. He spoke. More words than Medivh had ever heard from the castellan in years at once.

Don’t go down there again. The boy went to get help. Everything will work out – just stay up here and don’t—

Medivh stared at the dagger protruding from the castellan’s chest and swiftly withdrew it.  He heard a scream, and he quickly dispatched the screaming woman in the doorway to the kitchen, and she staggered back before landing hard on her face, a chip of a rose quartz lens dancing away.

_No… No! Why are you doing this – they had nothing to do with any of this. They were the ones who stayed, they were the ones who were loyal._

_Until the end. And it is the end._

The bastard wouldn’t let him shed a single tear.

 

He paced his sanctuary, waiting. He had been left alone with his thoughts – and that was a dangerous thing. He was still mortal.

He reached out, pulling power from the ley lines and ignoring the way that the arcane force prickled in his veins, the way his nerves sparked with pain, warning signs of overload. It would be fitting. He could free himself, if he could just…

_I think not._

The energy was dispersed in a violent outburst, rocking the foundations of the tower.

Medivh swore, impotently… and then dropped to the floor.

There was no one to hear his howl of misery. None to witness the tears.  He tried again. And again. Flame. Frost. Arcane. Fel. Anything that would destroy him before he could be taken completely by the monster that lurked within him from the very moment of his conception.

He couldn’t take any more of this.  He would do anything now to be free of it. Anything at all.

He wasn’t aware of time passing.

 

He watched himself, as though from a distance as Sargeras toyed with Khadgar and Garona. Watched as he set one of his closest friends aflame.  Watched as he… he…

_And now you see, your apprentice was never strong enough._

He could only stare at what Khadgar had become.

He would do anything to take it back.

He felt the blade against his chest, and looked into young eyes that were too old, too old and weary and…

_Light… please.  Give him the strength… Let him end it._

_Yes. Let him end_ you _.  It will be that much easier if he does._

Green eyes that were his own gazed at his apprentice. “I… I never wanted to … hurt anyone. I just… I just wanted to live my _own_ life…”

His hand raised.

_Don’t you dare! Not him! NOT HIM!_

Pain flared in his chest, and he gasped. The runes on the blade flashed as they vanished into his body. He turned his eyes to Khadgar’s, the lined face determined, the eyes cold.

_… don’t look at me like that.  Don’t look at me like that… please… by the Light…_

“Thank you…” The blue eyes widened.  “I… I fought him.. fought _it_ … as long as I could…”

Medivh faded out of existence, only to know that he was free… but so, too, was the demon who had taken his body like a glove.

_… I love you…_

~*~*~

Khadgar knelt by the graves for a long moment after Medivh’s image faded, returning there to offer a final farewell.

He still had things to do, but felt he owed his master this, if nothing more.

His chest ached, and his breath hurt, but he talked. He poured out everything he had kept hidden. His regret that he had not seen something sooner – that maybe, just maybe had he figured it out sooner there would have been a chance.

In a way, he thought it was fitting. He _would_ fall in love with a man doomed from birth. Isn’t that just how his life was?

He stood up with difficulty and returned to the tower.  He took long enough to wash up, was the blood from his hands, and realized that no matter how hard he scrubbed them, that blood would remain there, just under the skin, for all his life.

He looked around his room, taking in the bedding, still pushed aside and rumpled from when he last rose from it, his desk covered in notes.  He bit his lip and reached out to take the pouch of scribe’s tools and left the rest where it was.  He dug out his messenger bag from the bottom of the closet where it lay with his old and battered rucksack.

His robes weren’t the right fit anymore; the uniform he wore fitted badly as it was.  He left his closet as it lay, and backed out of the room.

He went to the library, and ignoring the faint whistling of the cricket in the pouch in the satchel, pulled books from the shelves, safe and unsafe alike.  He was not going to abandon his education … because Medivh would have wanted it this way. He hoped.

His final stop was Medivh’s room. He had spent enough time there to know he had left some clothing in the older mage’s wardrobe; since often the clothing he had worn upon entering the room wound up in a state of disrepair that made it impractical to put on the following morning.

He also felt far more comfortable bathing on this level.

The uniform he wore went into the satchel, bundled into the tabard. He sank into hot water and found he couldn’t scrub away what he’d done.

He had killed the one person he had hoped, one day, to spend his life _with._ He had killed Medivh, and he couldn’t take it back.

Skin raw, he rose from his bath and drained the water, tinged pink with the blood he’d scrubbed away. He slid the robe over his fragile frame and slid on clean underthings and fresh pants.  He was exhausted.

He couldn’t go downstairs, so he returned to Medivh’s room and curled up on the bed, inhaling the scent that clung to his beloved.

And wept himself to sleep.

It wouldn’t be the last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for sticking with me on this one. It was painful to write.


End file.
